The Silver eyed Empress
by Revan5
Summary: Sequel to "Claymore: New Era".  A brilliant silver-eyed general has taken over one of the world's superpowers and readies for total war while the Dragonkin-led Grand Alliance demands Rabona and Phantom Miria join sides against her or face invasion.
1. Prologue

**The Silver-eyed Empress**

* * *

_Remember, remember, the fifth of December_

_The silver-eyed treason and plot_

_I know of no reason_

_Why the silver-eyed treason_

_Should ever be forgot_

_-Popular Bretonese poem_

* * *

**Synopsis**

It is three years after Phantom Miria and her comrades overthrew the Organization and mere weeks after the final events of "Claymore: New Era", where Miria triumphed over Rabona's intra-island rival, the Kingdom of Lautrec. The blissfully ignorant isolation of the island of Toulouse and Rabona is about to end. The Global War threatens to spill onto the island, and now Rabona and Phantom Miria are being asked to take sides. The world is on the precipice of a vastly different era, one almost unrecognizable from the time of the Organization. In this dark time the many survivors of Pieta live on; Miria, Helen, Tabitha, Yuma, and Claire still live, although ever-greater dangers lurk. They have been joined during and since the Organization's overthrow by younger claymores like Renée, Raki, Miata, Clarice, Nina, Nadia, Virginia, Anastacia, Alexandra, Valencia and more. But how long can the island of Toulouse remain independent of events abroad? Events which Phantom Miria set in motion from the very moment she overthrew the Organization...

* * *

**Foreword from the Author**

This novel is the sequel to "Claymore: New Era", which I would recommend readers of this book check out if they have not already. Like the book it is a sequel to, "The Silver-eyed Empress" is based on the premise that Phantom Miria did not foolishly rush into the Organization all alone. To put it mildly, Yagi asked us to suspend our disbelief and brought her back to us. But what if Miria hadn't followed Yagi's path? What if she had rescued her friends in the west and then together with them destroyed the Organization? What would the Claymore universe look like afterwards if Miria had done the logical thing? The answer to that may be surprising, as is the era after the Organization's defeat. "Claymore: New Era" was my first answer to what might have been. This novel is an even more ambitious work in that it shows the consequences of her actions upon the mainland continent. The technology of this period is roughly equal to 1350 AD France for the island of Toulouse minus access to gunpowder. The mainland however is roughly two centuries ahead, with technologies roughly equal to 1550 AD Spain minus handguns. I appreciate reviews, and I hope you enjoy reading what is surely amongst the most unique Claymore fanfiction.

Chapter release schedule: Bi-weekly

* * *

**Quick Glossary**

**Isle/island of Toulouse**: the island upon which the Organization was established and later destroyed upon. It is a four-pointed island of modest size divided into five lands. The Northern Lands of Alphonse (controlled by Rabona), the Central Lands of Toulouse (controlled by Rabona/AKA the Dominion of Toulouse), the Western Lands of Lautrec (controlled by the Kingdom of Lautrec, Rabona's main rival), the Southern Lands of Mucha (controlled by dozens of warlords and city-states), and the Eastern Lands of Burgundy (home to former Organization headquarters and controlled by a plethora of would-be aristocrats).

Because this novel spans a far greater world than just the island of Toulouse, there are a far greater variety of races than those found in Toulouse alone. I have listed their equivalents in the modern world to avoid any confusion.

**Races of the Claymore Universe:**

Bantu=Sub-Saharan African

Bengali=South Asian

Khaledonian=European

Maghrebi= Arab/North African

Siyamese=East Asian

Hispano=Latino

* * *

**Prologue**

**Excerpt from "**_**World History after the Overthrow**_**"**

**Chapter 10: The Boomerang Effect**

_By C. Havel_

_"Phantom Miria's life three years after the overthrow of the Organization seemed a complete triumph. Immediately following the Organization's overthrow, an island-wide hunt eliminated Yoma and awakened beings as threats to the population. Miria and four comrades spent two fruitless years protecting merchants for money before finally Miria, tired of the work, moved to Pieta. There she was about to embark on a career as a blacksmith when news changed everything._

_A robber baron named King Charles had besieged Rabona with ten thousand men. Miria and thirty-four other claymores relieved the siege in a night. Miria then bluffed, some would say blackmailed, her way into command of Rabona's military. Several months after taking command, her ex-boyfriend, Cid Malaga, announced he was about to get engaged to another woman. Miria found this unacceptable and promptly seduced him back into her arms. In the meantime she continued to strengthen Rabona's military for a coming fight._

_King Charles' Kingdom of Lautrec, which controlled the western part of the island of Toulouse, returned to besiege Rabona yet again. When the church refused to allow a counterattack, Miria ordered the army to sit by while the church's rule was overthrown by Rabona's Council of Lords. Freed from church doctrine, she annihilated half of the enemy army in a night using surprise assaults. King Charles, incensed, attacked her outnumbered forces with the remainder of his army. The showdown was in the narrow Kerouac Gorge._

_Charles' forces had nearly succeeded in breaking her forces when he was assassinated by Miria's adopted daughter, Natalie. Natalie was promptly shot and nearly died, and Miria soon thereafter nearly completely awakened and wreaked bloody hell upon the enemy in revenge. Somehow she was pulled back from the brink while her daughter's life was saved. Unfortunately for historians, those involved have never talked about exactly what happened. The battle was a complete victory, Rabona emerging as the preeminent power on the isle of Toulouse._

_Six months later, with Rabona's territories, wealth, and military having grown dramatically, Miria married her beau, now-Count Cid Malaga, in an extravagant 'wedding of the century'. It seemed to islanders that inevitably Rabona would beat the Kingdom of Lautrec and unify the island. History, it seemed, was coming to an inexorable end. Rabona's forces had but to try and the island would be unified once more under the holy city's rule._

_History however has a way of delivering surprises that wreck the plans of even ascendant states. A mere week after Phantom Miria's wedding, events went horribly off-script. While Miria and Cid were on their honeymoon, an ambassador from the world's greatest alliance arrived. Duke von Rundstedt, emissary from the Grand Alliance, gave an ultimatum: join us and fight the Romanow Empire within three years or we will invade._

_Miria was informed when she arrived back in Rabona that ultimately it was her fault the Grand Alliance had intervened in island affairs. Miria, angered, demanded to know why this accusation was made. The answer shocked Miria into silence. It was said her overthrow of the Organization had led to the exact opposite results desired by the Grand Alliance. Facing the Grand Alliance now was a brilliant leader who owed their very rise to power to Miria's overthrow of the Organization._

_When Phantom Miria and her comrades helped destroy the Organization, they might have expected, with good reason, that the Dragonkin-led Grand Alliance would emerge victorious after the Organization's fall. After all, the one thing keeping the Alliance of Nations in the fight had been the Organization, its research department. With its fall, this superpower alliance looked doomed, or at the very least would be subjected to a harsh peace. The Grand Alliance however would soon discover that getting what it wanted could lead to nasty surprises._

_One of the rebels against the Organization, a seventeen-year-old witch named Dietrich, was witness to some of these events in person. The unusually named Dietrich was a high-ranked warrior in the Organization's ranks. Disillusioned with their creation of the monstrous Abyss Feeders, she soon discovered the Organization's true nature via contact with Miria's team. Dietrich switched sides, her aid proving pivotal in overcoming or persuading the Organization's loyalist claymores._

_Dietrich followed Phantom Miria's lead and played a part in wiping out Toulouse's Yoma and awakened being population after the Organization's overthrow. With this completed four months later, Dietrich was free to do as she wished. The young warrior, always something of an adventurer, decided to board a fishing boat. Dietrich wanted to sail the high seas on the most advanced ship in the isles, a fishermen's caravel. Unfortunately for Dietrich, a storm hit the vessel at sea. Lacking an able navigator, the ship was blown wildly off course. They would eventually sight land in the distance. Unfortunately for Dietrich, the Alliance of Nations' Navy did not take kindly to an unidentified ship intruding into their waters."_

* * *

Dietrich was leaning over the caravel's forecastle, looking towards the semi-arid land beyond. The land was hilly, and through her bronze hand telescope she could just make out some mountains far in the distance. It was nearing evening, and as she shifted the telescope right she made out the silhouette of a city upon a large hill. There were a number of bright flashes around and in it, which confused her. It had architecture similar to that seen in the southern lands of Mucha on the isle of Toulouse. Red tile roofs and adobe walls were evident, as were a number of people scurrying around.

There was a port nearby, with numerous ships, many several times larger than the 110-foot caravel she was aboard. Dietrich looked back to see the ship's first mate turn the ship's wheel. The motley, ragged, wearied crew looked relieved, as was she. She was still wearing her gray Organization-era uniform, a claymore upon her back. A fine sea breeze was puffing the white sails, speeding the ship towards the port on the horizon.

"Two ships, starboard side," a sailor called out.

Dietrich looked up to see a sailor far above, atop the foremast in a crow's nest, pointing. She looked to the right and blanched; two massive, four-decked ships were closing fast out of the fog. The fog dissipated towards land, which left the caravel hard to miss. The ships were impressive, and even though they were some distance away, Dietrich estimated they were both several times the size of the caravel. Atop their four massive masts were blue flags decorated by numerous, six-pointed, gold stars.

Each ship had a number of holes on several decks, which Dietrich was surprised to see. They were regularly spaced, rectangular, and were suddenly lit up by flashes. A few seconds later the crow's nest on the caravel suffered a catastrophic impact. Dietrich jumped back as the man's headless body smashed down upon the deck before her.

Dietrich yelled at the shell-shocked crew, "We're under attack! Get us to full speed!"

The chase was utterly terrifying, with the enemy warships firing some weapon Dietrich had never seen before. Whatever it was the ships had plenty of them and they landed with a bang. The caravel's three sails didn't seem to be enough, because they were barely holding even with their pursuers. The enemy was forcing them towards the port and land.

They were nearing the port when Dietrich noticed a similar warship pull out of it.

She screamed out, "Turn us around!"

The caravel sluggishly changed course when the warship a quarter mile distant loosed a full broadside. The caravel, turning sluggishly away from the other warships, made an easy target. The caravel exploded into a storm of flying timbers and splinters. Dietrich staggered and looked down. A nasty wood splinter the width of her hand and the length of her forearm had gone right through her belly. She clutched at her belly and attempted to lean against the deck railing.

As she fell backwards off the deck, she realized the deck railing was no longer there. Dietrich felt a tremendous shock of cold blue-green water wrap around her. She tried her best to swim, but she was still wearing her large sword and armor. She saw the surface receding and knew she had no choice but to ditch them. She unsheathed the sword and reluctantly let it go. If felt like she was leaving her soul behind as it passed out of view into the murky depths below.

She felt her breath running short as she desperately took off her pauldrons. They fell off, and with their great weight gone, Dietrich kicked to the surface. She gasped for air upon breaking the surface, the waves nearly splashing over her head. The caravel was scarcely in sight and already aflame. The adrenaline served her well as she awkwardly attempted to swim. She could feel the searing sting of salt water entering her belly wound.

Dietrich didn't know how long she was in the water. All she knew was that she had to get to shore and as far from the port as possible. However the shore seemed to be getting no closer. She spotted some drifting wreckage from the caravel and spent her strength to reach it. She paddled with it for hours, but eventually she felt exhaustion take her.

She woke up and drowsily noticed her body had washed up on a beach. Dietrich used her remaining strength to pull the splinter out of her belly. With a horrible surge in pain, it came out. She used what Yoma energy she had left to heal the gaping wound. She was feeling delirious and light-headed as the wound closed. She glanced up upon hearing some footfall.

The sight convinced clear Dietrich that her exhaustion and deliriousness had gotten the best of her. A figure in the dark emerged. She could have sworn what she saw was a man with silver eyes. Moments later she was overcome with exhaustion and passed out. Her consciousness over the course of the night went back and forth between unconscious and conscious, although she never fully woke up. She felt her body moving in one of these rare moments of consciousness, and saw something bright streaking into the night sky. Delirious, she passed back into sleep.

Later she felt herself climbing. Her eyes drowsily opened to see a crew of men in rough clothes clustered around a large object. It had a massive central iron barrel, two large wooden wheels, and a large stand at one end. The barrel pointed in the opposite direction of the stand. The men lit some sort of fuse and held their hands over their ears. With a tremendous flash and bang, the object released a huge plume of smoke and rolled backwards a short way.

She lost consciousness moments later. She woke up, the morning light blinding her as it came through an open window. Dietrich looked around and noticed the room was walled in adobe. She was lying on a plain white bed covered by a single large white comforter. Dietrich tossed the covers off to find an unusual, colorful set of robes upon her. They were languid and seemed to be made in silk. The robes were primarily blue and white, with red mixed in to add interest.

Dietrich turned from checking out her new clothes and rushed towards the window. She scrambled up, leaned over the sill, and looked. Dietrich could see some tall ships in the nearby harbor. Alarmingly they carried the blue and gold-starred flags of the warships that had attacked her. She knew immediately that she had to get out of the room and somewhere safe. Try as she could, the four vertical bars in the otherwise open window would not break or bend. She knew they should have if they were steel, as she didn't lack for strength despite her modest size.

The room's lone door was locked as well and looked to be made from the unbreakable material. Dietrich tried desperately tried kicking a hole in the wall to escape. The wall proved rather more durable than her foot was counting on.

"Oww," Dietrich whimpered, clutching her left foot.

She heard someone unlocking the door as she massaged her foot. She looked frantically for a weapon, but finding none she decided to attempt to tackle her jailer. She snuck close to the far wall and waited. The lock clicked and the doorknob turned. A large man entered the room nonchalantly, not immediately spotting her to his left. She jumped upon his back and attempted to choke him.

He reacted with a blinding speed, grabbing her arms and flinging her over his head. The last thing Dietrich remembered was flying, her head and body upside-down, as she moved with great speed towards the far wall. The next she knew she woke up in the same room yet again. She was wearing her strange robes, and her head hurt something awful. She rubbed her head and glanced around. She paused in shock.

Sitting on a simple wooden stool in the otherwise bare room was a male claymore. Dietrich blinked and rubbed her eyes just to be sure she wasn't dreaming. It appeared she was not, as he did not disappear from her sight. The male claymore in question was utterly different from the former male warriors described to her by Phantom Miria. For one thing, he had a well-trimmed beard. His bleach-brown hair, the same color as Miria's, was cut short, with only a pair of split bangs.

He was much taller than her and solidly built; his build was somewhere between a bodybuilder and a medium-distance runner. His face was very masculine, with a wide jaw, a prominent straight nose, keen silver eyes, a short forehead, and this was complemented with a bulldog-like neck. The most distinguishing feature was a vertical scar that went from just above his eyebrow to the cheek below. Somehow his eye had not been hit by whatever had done the damage; probably a sword in Dietrich's judgment.

She noticed he was studying her cautiously, and Dietrich guiltily realized he had probably been the individual she had attempted to choke prior to getting knocked out.

Dietrich awkwardly started a conversation, "Bonjour."

The male claymore didn't seem to have heard her hushed voice. Admittedly he was kind of intimidating. He was easily twice her weight, a head taller, and was wearing considerably different armor than that worn by any Organization claymore. He had a steel cuirass over his torso and shoulders. He also wore a pair of steel gauntlets that covered his forearms.

The male warrior's well-muscled legs were protected near the waist by a hanging set of individual armor plates exactly like those worn by many Organization claymores. Underneath it all he wore a tight-fitting outfit of black-dyed cotton that fit snug over his body. It made for a spectacularly sleek, glistening look in combination with the gleaming steel armor.

"I said Bonjour," Dietrich spoke up. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

The male claymore's eyebrows arched. His face had a confused expression upon it.

Dietrich continued with a little more attitude, "Why am I being locked up? I demand to know why I am being treated—"

The muscular claymore spoke, but in a bizarre tongue Dietrich had never heard before, "Musisz być byłym claymorem organizacji."

Dietrich blinked, "Wait, did you just say claymore?"

The silver-eyed warrior replied in his tongue again, his words flying over Dietrich's head, "Czy rozumiesz coś poza tym słowem?"

Dietrich tried again in Toulousan, "Um, could you go back to talking about claymores?"

Dietrich wanted to grab the well-muscled male and shout at him to speak something she could understand when he replied, "To raczej nie ma szans powodzenia, prawda? Słuchaj, przepraszam za kłopot, ale musisz tu zostać."

"Look, even if I can't understand you, just let me out!" Dietrich ran towards the unlocked door, but the foreign warrior stepped into her path with frightening speed. Frustrated, Dietrich shouted up at the man's face, "I said, let me out!"

Her captor sighed, ""Nie jesteś więźniem. Po prostu nie mogę pozwolić ci odejść".

Dietrich snapped, "Let me out you bastard!"

Dietrich tried to go around the fighter but he grabbed her by the arm to say yet another bit in his language, which might as well have been gibberish, "Rozumiem twoje zdenerwowanie, ale gdyby moi zwierzchnicy dowiedzieli się o tobie, torturowaliby cię dla informacji i prawdopodobnie zabili".

Dietrich pounded her fists against his chest uselessly, pleading, "Why don't you just let me out? What did I do to you to deserve this?"

The silver-eyed slayer spared her a few more words, "Chronię cię w ten sposób. Mój podwładny przyjdzie później z jedzeniem i jakimiś ubraniami".

The male warrior turned for the door. Dietrich rushed around to her knees to plead.

"No, please, I swear I'm sorry for attacking you earlier," Dietrich cried. "Just please, don't leave me in here! I'll do anything, anything for you, you have my word!"

She grabbed his right leg and held on when he tried to move. The warrior for his part sighed again, pulled her off, opened the door, and with a small grin, dropped a book at her feet. He closed the door just as she rushed over. She tugged on the doorknob, but it was locked solidly in place.

Dietrich reacted by slumping against the door and for the first time in her life; she swore.

"Shit," Dietrich sighed.

* * *

**1 ½ years later...**

The language did not come easily. What little she learned in the first few months was just enough to discover that the male warrior was named Wenceslaus. He was the commander of a squad of silver-eyed slayers. Every day Wenceslaus and his second-in-command, a petite female warrior named Alevtina, would stop by to speak with her. In the beginning almost everything was incomprehensible. Wenceslaus however proved a charitable and kind jailer, giving her countless books to read, nice meals, a variety of clothes.

Alevtina, who seemed a petite relative of the late Deneve, turned into her language tutor. Alevtina taught her the alphabet and soon Dietrich was being given simplistic children's books to start out on. The language was called Comnenian, and was very difficult to learn. Besides suffering from a deficit of vowels, it was far different in tone than the smooth Toulousan she spoke. Dietrich threw herself into learning the language, as she had nothing better to do.

Eventually Dietrich had graduated from children's books to books for teens, and then demanded books on history and the war on the continent. Through these she learned that the Organization's late backer was a group of empires, kingdoms, khanates, sultanates, emirates and duchies. They called their faction the 'Alliance of Nations'. It had formed over one hundred and ten years prior to the present day. In opposition was the Dragonkin-led Grand Alliance. The draconic tribe's attacks had nearly knocked the Alliance of Nations out of the Global War in its early years.

Somehow they recovered; she guessed it was because they had discovered how to create awakened beings. The war was far too great in scale to learn about it all. She had skimmed until recent history. The first claymores were not mentioned until twenty years prior, and unlike in Toulouse, there were both females and some males. This confused her endlessly; hadn't the Organization said males were too susceptible to awakening? Wenceslaus however showed no signs of pre-awakening stress she had seen in Organization claymores.

More interestingly Wenceslaus was mentioned on several occasions within the history books. He appeared some twenty years prior, alongside the first of the mainland claymores, in a couple of incidents involving rebellions. It was right after the Battle of Danzig Bay, when the Alliance of Nations' own creations had disastrously backfired upon them. It seemed he was the result of a change in war strategy. Wenceslaus was both charitable and intimidating. His yoki, even suppressed, was on par or greater than that of the ex-Organization No. 1, Alicia.

From her charitable captors she soon learned that the mainland warriors were far different from their formerly solitary Organization comrades. Besides having male warriors, the claymores in the alliance operated almost entirely in squads. She had asked why there were male warriors, but this line of questioning only seemed to confuse Wenceslaus and Alevtina. Obviously some advance must have been made to allow male slayers to be trained without inordinate risk of them awakening.

There did not appear to be a taboo against slayers killing humans, which alarmed her. They even carried out a far wider variety of missions than claymores. She pieced together that they were responsible for hunting down errant awakened beings. Besides this they also carried out assassination missions against internal and external enemies, they spied, they guarded VIPs, and on several occasions carried out reconnaissance. Their most dangerous responsibility was acting as hunters of Dragonkin when awakened beings were unavailable. She was thus little surprised to learn that most didn't live more than a few years in the field.

There were also the flimsy things Alevtina brought in called newspapers. These would to prove the most interesting things of all. They helped her linguistic skills immensely and the news they contained was eye-opening for a sheltered islander.

* * *

Dietrich was reading a week-old newspaper from the local city, Seville, atop her plain white bed. She was dressed in a black silk dress trimmed in white. She glanced up from a story about a Grand Alliance offensive being beaten back at Rivoli. The commander was a warrior named—

The prison room's door unlocked with a loud click. Dietrich rushed to get her room in order. It was now stuffed full of books and newspapers in Comnenian, which she was getting fairly good at speaking. A pair of white blinds and a small red carpet even gave the cold stone-floored room a homey feeling. She quickly stuffed a number of books on her bed back into their proper places on the room's numerous bookshelves.

The door opened to reveal a female warrior a little taller than Dietrich. Her blond bangs covered her forehead, while the rest of her hair was quite short. Her face reminded Dietrich of a more effeminate Deneve. Alevtina wore armor like that worn by Wenceslaus, only it was smaller and the cuirass was shaped to suit female curves. Upon her back was a massive claymore sword in its holder.

"Dzień dobry, Dietrich," Alevtina greeted her.

Dietrich returned the good morning, "Dzień dobry, Alevtina."

"Great news," Alevtina crowed in Comnenian, dropping a clutch of papers before Dietrich. "She smashed them good around Trentino."

"Who?"

Alevtina rolled her eyes, "Who else? General Romanowa of course!"

"But how?"

"I'm sure we'd all like to know," Alevtina grinned. "Word is they've just promoted her to Lieutenant General."

Katarzyna Romanowa was the one silver-eyed slayer Dietrich had heard the most about besides Wenceslaus. Romanowa had an incredible story. Two years prior, back when the Organization had fallen, Katarzyna had been a mere squad commander. Starting from the rank of captain, Katarzyna rose through the ranks rapidly thanks to what could only be described as a great talent for command. Half the reason why the Alliance of Nations was still in the war was Katarzyna. The other half was something that eluded Dietrich.

"That's great," Dietrich agreed. "So what happens next?"

Even though she was technically a traitor, Dietrich found herself identifying with her captors. She had even learned that they weren't technically imprisoning her; they were hiding her from allied agents who would surely put her to death for her part in the Organization's overthrow. Dietrich was thankful she had lucked out and met Wenceslaus first after nearly drowning in the ocean. For some reason she felt warm whenever she thought about him.

Alevtina sat down on a stool as Dietrich's thoughts snapped back to reality.

"I have no idea, but I'm glad she's kicking the Grand Alliance's ass on the Northern Front. The word in the newspaper is that she's gone on the offensive and is retaking territory from the Grand Alliance," Alevtina informed.

Dietrich's eyes widened, "She's going on the offensive? Has the Grand Alliance been on the defensive in a century?"

"Not that I can recall," Alevtina nodded. "It's about time really. Plus she's doing all of it without the aid of monsters. The High Command kind of sickens me to tell you the truth. They send out these…these hybrid men with no training and have them awaken and die fighting Dragonkin. Then there are those awful Abyss Feeders, those—"

Dietrich's stomach churned, "There are Abyss Feeders here?"

"Yeah, hey, wait, how do you know about…oh, right," Alevtina remarked. "I completely forgot about you being an Organization warrior for a moment there. I'm just glad that ever since the Alliance found out how to partially awaken the warriors they haven't been using as many of those stupid 'super weapons'. They kept expecting for these things to turn around the war—"

Dietrich's jaw slackened, "Wait, how did they find out about that?"

Alevtina inclined her head, "Partial awakening? Near as I remember Wenceslaus saying, they discovered the process from an Organization claymore named Audrey and her handler, Rado. Don't tell him I told you that. It's supposed to be classified information."

"Sure," Dietrich said, her stomach clenching in shock. "Are you partially awakened Alevtina?"

Alevtina smirked, "Why wouldn't I be? Wenceslaus is as well. Almost the entire force of silver-eyed slayers is now partially awakened. That's nearly half the reason why the alliance is still in the war. It made us warriors far stronger, and in exchange for risking awakening the High Command even agreed to allow warriors to try their hands at being officers. That's why Katarzyna was even given the opportunity to command."

"Oh," was all Dietrich could manage in her heavily accented Comnenian.

Alevtina opened the newspaper, "You don't mind if I call you Dietricha do you?"

"Of course I do," Dietrich snapped.

"It's just that your name, Dietrich, that's a boy's name," Alevtina stated. "Don't you want a nice girl's name or at least feminize your name?"

"My dad wanted a boy, so I'm named Dietrich," she explained in a huff.

"Your dad was pretty weird," Wenceslaus' subordinate commented. "Anyways, listen to this about the Battle of Trentino. The enemy commander was complaining about our general. Quote, 'They've sent a madwoman who does nothing but attack left, right, and from the rear. Her ways of war are intolerable!'"

Dietrich smirked, "Why exactly are they intolerable?"

Alevtina turned the newspaper page and looked up, smiling, "She doesn't play 'the game'. All of the army commanders on both sides, prior to two years ago, were nobles. The only harsh things they did were unleash Dragonkin or awakened beings on each other. However, most of the nobles care more for surviving than winning. You'd get two armies fighting, they'd maneuver, one side would put the other in check, and the other would retire."

"Is that why the Global War has been going on for so long?"

Alevtina grabbed Dietrich's chess set, opened it, and grabbed two knights, one black and one white. "The Global War isn't like what you think. The Global War has spurts of great violence for short periods of time. However no countries could sustain all-out warfare for a century. The rest of the time there is low-level conflict while both sides recover. Right now the war is entering another period of great violence."

"But why now?"

"It's because Katarzyna isn't playing by the rules," Alevtina explained. "When her aristocratic opponents stop, she keeps going," Alevtina explained, holding up the black queen. "When they retire from the field of battle, she attacks them again. I like Katarzyna because she doesn't mess around. She doesn't care about just winning a battle or a city; she cares about annihilating the enemy's armies and their ability to wage war. Wenceslaus thinks she's too ambitious, but I think she's what we need."

* * *

**4 months later…**

Dietrich's first clue something was wrong was the hole smashed in her prison's wall. The cannonball entered and exited instantaneously. It also conveniently exited her room by taking out the doorknob and lock. Dietrich, wearing a spare black combat outfit of Alevtina's, gingerly walked into the hallway. She didn't have any armor on, or a sword. A soldier with an ornate helmet and wearing full plate-mail armor noticed her in the candle-lit hallway.

"Hey, you, get into your armor and grab your sword," he snapped at her. "Don't you know we're under attack?"

Dietrich was directed down dark hallways and finally to a storeroom. She found a cache of massive claymore swords and grabbed one. The officer left a subordinate to look after her. She put on a female-style steel cuirass, a pair of gauntlets, added an open-faced steel helmet, and set of tassets.

Fully outfitted, she rushed up to the officer and saluted.

He snapped, "Who's your squad commander?"

"Wenceslaus," Dietrich answered.

"You've got a strange accent," the man commented.

"I grew up with nomads," Dietrich lied.

"Alright, well, I trust you know how to find your squad. Get going," he ordered.

Dietrich could find Wenceslaus' yoki with ease. This was because although he was tamping down on it, his yoki strength was obviously very great. In fact, she had once estimated he might outstrip Alicia and Beth in raw Yoma energy strength. His yoki was not the only one though. There were nearly three dozen yoki signatures nearby, all of them of greatly varying strength.

She dodged past soldiers in the hallway, turned left at an intersection, and jumped through a doorway. She emerged in pleasant sunlight to find Wenceslaus with a full squad of comrades dozens of meters away. They were observing something on the edge of a fortified parapet. Not far away to the right was a battery of six cannons. The cannon crews were ready to fire.

There was some shouting in a new language Dietrich hadn't heard before, "Cubra sus orejas!"

The first cannon crew lit the fuse and covered their ears. With a tremendous bang, the cannon belched smoke and lurched backwards as it fired.

The others in turn fired in turn, one after another. The smoke was just clearing when Dietrich walked closer. The squad was armored in like manner to Wenceslaus. Dietrich noticed Alevtina looking over and then hiding her face with her hands. Alevtina murmured something to Wenceslaus, who merely glanced over, unsmiling. Dietrich stopped when the rest of the squad looked over. There was another male, considerably leaner and half a head taller than Dietrich.

It was the nine other female slayers besides Alevtina that caused Dietrich to freeze in place. Four of them had dark, black skin, two had lighter brown skin, and the remainder was pale-skinned like Dietrich. They had their blond hair in a variety of haircuts and builds, although their most feminine features were covered in armor. Dietrich had never seen claymores with skin different than hers. In fact she had never seen a single person with brown or black skin. They looked more than a little surprised to see her, as she was them.

A brown-skinned female slayer took one look at Dietrich and remarked, "Who's this Wenceslaus, your amante secreto?"

Wenceslaus looked over at the pretty girl, who had distinct arched eyebrows and was regarding Dietrich with what looked to be contempt.

Wenceslaus didn't even appear ruffled as he replied, "No, Aishwarya, she's with Special Operations, Section three."

A really impressed murmur and a lot of newly appraising looks went Dietrich's way.

"Alevtina, take the squad towards the main southern gate and have them act as a strategic reserve. I don't think the Grand Alliance has anywhere near enough troops to take the city, but I want us prepared to counterattack at any breakthroughs," Wenceslaus instructed.

The rest of the squad departed under Alevtina's watchful command while Wenceslaus remained giving Dietrich a very unnerving stare. For her part Dietrich looked away and noticed the battlefield beyond. They were near the edge of the citadel. Hundreds of meters below were a pair of tall walls. Beyond those were literally thousands of troops in a wide, flat field. Dietrich noticed hundreds of red flags rustling in the robust winds.

"You almost got yourself killed," Wenceslaus commented. "Luckily the squad never heard you speak."

"I'm sorry," Dietrich gasped. "I had a cannonball smash the door to my prison and I walked out. Some officer saw me and told me to get into combat gear, so here I am. Are we going to be okay? That looks like a big attack."

"They don't have the numbers to breach the walls," Wenceslaus remarked in his usual deep voice. "They've tried to besiege Seville fifteen times in the past twenty years, and this time will be no different. I want you to go back to your room and take those yoki suppressing pills."

Dietrich objected, "But I just got out!"

"It's to keep you alive," Wenceslaus stated as they walked out of earshot of the cannon crews.

With a tremendous series of bangs another volley was fired.

Dietrich pressed her inquiry as they walked up a set of stairs, "But what's this section three of Special Operations? Why were they all looking at me with those weird expressions?"

Wenceslaus didn't answer until they reached the ruined door to her room.

"Am I going to be safe here? That went right through—"

"You'll be fine, I took care of those enemy cannon twenty minutes ago," Wenceslaus stated. "They won't be putting cannon on that far hill anytime soon. Not after I hit them."

"But what's—"

Wenceslaus sighed, "Section three is composed entirely of silver-eyed assassins."

Dietrich bit her lip as Wenceslaus handed her yoki suppressants.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Wenceslaus looked Dietrich in the eye, "If you had talked the whole squad would have known you were an ex-Organization warrior. They've already met your former comrade, Audrey. Your accent in Comnenian is little different than Audrey's. Someone would have told a handler, and they would be here by tomorrow morning. You would not be alive more than a few hours before they killed you."

"But that doesn't—"

Wenceslaus put his hands on her shoulders, "No one deserves the death they would give you. The alliance penalty for treason is being drawn and quartered. They tear your body apart with four teams of oxen while you're still alive."

Dietrich gulped.

She had to ask, "How do you know I'm a traitor?"

"Audrey was here on behalf of Marshal Romanowa yesterday," Wenceslaus stated. "I asked if she ever knew a Dietrich, and she told me quite a bit. However, that's not the important thing right now. What's important is that you take these pills and keep hidden. Assassins are known to disappear for weeks at a time, which is what you'll do."

"I suppose I owe you a lot of thanks," Dietrich sighed. "Wait, Marshal Romanowa? As in the Katarzyna Romanowa?"

"Katarzyna Romanowa was pulled off the Northern Front two months ago," Wenceslaus explained. "The High Command was not being cooperative, and she threatened to resign if they didn't stop their bickering over the new conquests. They promoted her to Marshal and sent her here to the southern front. As we speak her forces are cutting off and enveloping the forces besieging Seville. When she's done here she's supposed to have a big meeting in a month with High Command to decide strategy."

* * *

**5 weeks later…**

Dietrich marked off the date of December 10th on her calendar. She was about gulp down a yoki suppressant in her repaired room when Alevtina slammed open the door and grabbed her.

"Wait, what's going on Alevtina?"

"There's been a huge event in Visegrad," Alevtina stated, her voice deadly serious.

Alevtina looked unusually tense as they walked out the door. They navigated a countless number of fortress passageways. They emerged where Dietrich had seen Wenceslaus' squad some five weeks prior. Only this time there were gathered a full three dozen slayers, including Wenceslaus, and a number of military officers in armor. Just like claymores, all the silver-eyed slayers present had blond or bleached hair.

A white-mustached man in full armor, wearing a blue cape trimmed in gold was shouting, "…and I would rather open this fortress to the Grand Alliance than put our lot in with that usurper!"

A dark-skinned female slayer, not much taller than Dietrich, rebutted, "That's more traitorous than anything Marshal Romanowa did!"

Dietrich murmured to Alevtina in confusion and fear, "What's happened?"

"Marshal Romanowa has relieved the Alliance of Nations' High Command of power," Alevtina whispered. "Wenceslaus is trying to prevent her supporters from getting into a fight with supporters of the former High Command."

Wenceslaus was with his squad in between two other squads of slayers, some military officers on both sides, a chorus of yelling going between the two sides.

"That barbarian killed the entire High Command, even their children, and all of it was done with the treacherous help of the Silver Guard, Aminata," a pale-skinned male slayer shouted back.

"The only barbarians were the High Command," a brown-skinned human officer opposite shouted back. "Katarzyna didn't have any choice. If she wanted to get rid of the High Command permanently, she had to end their familial lines entirely! Besides, those bastards betrayed her while she was on the offensive on the Northern Front! Out of pure jealousy at her success they stripped her of the Silver Guard, supplies and—"

The pale-skinned male slayer rebutted, "Katarzyna was still making progress—"

"The High Command betrayed the war effort, Vladimir," Aminata fired back. "They couldn't handle compromising on dividing up Katarzyna's conquests and cost hundreds of thousands of lives with their obstructionism. We owe Katarzyna our allegiance for her selfless dedication to actually winning the war!"

"The only thing Katarzyna wants is absolute power, Aminata, and I will be dead before I see that monster take command of this city," the short-haired Vladimir countered.

"If you want to throw open the city to the Grand Alliance, I'll see to that," Aminata spat.

Aminata and Vladimir's squads unsheathed their swords and readied to fight.

Dietrich's stomach clenched; she could hardly believe what she was seeing. Standing alongside both Vladimir and Aminata were military officers. The city of Seville's military leadership was literally ready to start killing each other over what Dietrich realized must have been an extraordinary coup. Aminata seemed to be the chief supporter of Katarzyna, while Vladimir was dead-set against her. The human officers were surprisingly letting the warriors take the lead.

Wenceslaus and his squad rushed into the gap, swords drawn, trying to prevent bloodshed. Dietrich followed Alevtina's lead and kept Vladimir and Aminata from each other.

"We can't afford to go killing each other," Wenceslaus stated, holding back Aminata.

"This isn't like your lectures on kindness, Wenceslaus," Vladimir shot back with Dietrich and Alevtina holding him back.

"Choose a damn side Wenceslaus," Aminata urged. "If you back Katarzyna, this can all be over in an instant."

The shouting, shoving and deadly threats continued, but Wenceslaus prevented them from killing each other. It ended when a single male slayer of considerable height wearing black and gold robes walked out of the fortress. He emerged out of the same door through which Dietrich had come. Upon his back was a single curved blade unlike any claymore Dietrich had ever seen. He was of pale skin and had a strong jaw, and Dietrich found him almost as attractive as Wenceslaus.

"Commander Wenceslaus," the newcomer shouted. "Commander Wenceslaus!"

The fray settled down and everyone looked over, quiet. Wenceslaus was still holding Aminata by the arm when he looked over.

Wenceslaus sighed, "Yes?"

"I am Major Andrei Tuluzy," the slayer stated. "Her Supreme Imperial Majesty, Empress Katarzyna, has asked me to personally request that you not oppose her. She will grant full amnesty to everyone in Seville if you allow her forces to enter the city."

Vladimir muttered darkly, "I told you! Now she's declared herself an empress!"

Andrei ignored this, "In about four hours, some two hundred of our silver-eyed comrades and forty thousand men will arrive outside Seville's walls. Their commanding officer would like to know whether he should approach this city as a friend or an enemy. For those of you who wish to still throw your lot in with the empress' opponents, I have news you should carefully consider," Andrei remarked to Vladimir. "Victoria McKenzie attempted to stop the coup with four hundred slayers. Their opposition was smashed in less than ten minutes by the Silver Guard."

Wenceslaus' breath was stilled; in fact, there was a general level of shock in everyone present. Dietrich wasn't sure who Victoria McKenzie was, but she must have been important.

Vladimir stammered, "No, that can't be right, no one can kill someone as strong as—"

Andrei dropped a shark-tooth necklace at Vladimir's feet, "That is the necklace of Victoria."

Vladimir blanched and shut up.

Andrei addressed Wenceslaus, "if you cooperate, you will be made the Imperial Governor of Seville and granted the rank of Duke. If not, well, you can guess the consequences. I would appreciate an answer, Commander. The empress is willing to be quite lenient if you cooperate."

Wenceslaus looked over everyone present with sad eyes. Dietrich knew the math was horrific. An army of thirty-seven slayers and fifteen thousand men riven by infighting could not hope to resist an army nearly three times its size. On the other hand accepting a brutal overthrow was not in Wenceslaus' idealistic nature. He was probably weighing the costs of the choices on offer. Dietrich for her part knew which one she was rooting for, even if it were out of a selfish desire to survive.

"If those are the terms," Wenceslaus sighed, "then I accept your offer."

* * *

**Excerpt from "**_**World History after the Overthrow**_**"**

**Chapter 10: The Boomerang Effect**

_By C. Havel_

_"The one unit crucial to the overthrow of allied High Command was the Silver Guard. They were originally a group of fifty veteran slayers commanded by Major General Romanowa on the Northern Front. Eventually, with High Command becoming gridlocked over dividing up Katarzyna's conquests, she found herself starved of support and resupply. Despite this Katarzyna kept going until they reassigned the Silver Guard to be their main bodyguards. Romanowa was incensed at this betrayal and threatened to resign. Deciding they could not risk making Katarzyna into their enemy and not realizing they already had, the High Command promoted her to Marshal. After Romanowa decisively won the Battle of the Eight Castles, the war entered a period of stalemate. _

_They invited their new Marshal to a meeting, counting on the presence of the now 100-strong Silver Guard to protect them. It was a foolishly misguided trust, as the Silver Guard regarded Katarzyna like she was their mother. Worse still, the Silver Guard's commanding officer was especially close to Romanowa. Her name was Bastia Comnenus. Bastia was a Comnenian princess, but was hybridized as a show of devotion by her parents to the alliance. Bastia hated her parents for their politically motivated "donation", and came to regard the charming Romanowa as family. In retribution for their betrayal, Bastia agreed to plan the coup with Katarzyna. _

_Marshal Romanowa arrived at the meeting behaving like normal, exchanging pleasantries with various royals and even politely discussing physics with Bastia's brother. Katarzyna waited until the entire high command was in the meeting room and then signaled the Silver Guards to lock the doors and bar use of all exits. Within ten minutes the entire High Command was dead. Following the death of the High Command, Romanowa began her systematic quest to unify the squabbling alliance into a single empire. Declaring herself empress a week later, Katarzyna was soon confronted with revolts and foreign invasion by the Grand Alliance. _

_It took six months of brilliant leadership, brutal fighting, ruthless tactics, and massive use of force before the nations of the former Alliance of Nations succumbed totally to her rule. The keys to this success were Katarzyna's leadership, the services of the Silver Guard, and warriors in key positions of command tolerating her orders. Although the new Romanow Empire had lost some territories, it had fought the Grand Alliance to a standstill in a mere six months. It was an accomplishment that no one but a military genius and political mastermind could have done. _

_By this time a still-fragile empire comprising a third of the world's territory and population stood at Katarzyna's personal command. With the last revolt crushed the week before and a lull in the war with the Grand Alliance, the new empress turned to improving the governance of her fledgling empire in preparation for annihilating the Grand Alliance. It was at this crucial juncture that the silver-eyed Governor Wenceslaus sent a messenger to his Empress. The content of the message would change world history, as would Wenceslaus' choice of messenger, an ex-Organization warrior, the recently promoted Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy. _

_Wenceslaus by this time trusted Dietrich absolutely, so he sent her with an offer on his behalf to the empress. Wenceslaus' choice of messenger, a foreigner with an unmistakable accent, was no doubt chosen to provoke a reaction in the Empress. Wenceslaus might have been a mere governor, but his messenger was in no danger of not being given a personal audience by the empress. _

_Katarzyna was very aware, as we now know, that although she was an elite warrior and unmatched military commander, there were six slayers in the empire significantly better at personal combat than she was. As empress, she needed their support, even though most of them were not good military commanders. The Silver Guard could probably defeat one of them, perhaps as many as two, but no more. Wenceslaus was one of only two males in this group of unrivalled fighters, and like the others, the empress kept close tabs on him. _

_Although Dietrich did not know it, she was in fact part of his offer to the empress. It was an offer that Phantom Miria would surely wish was never made, for it would bring both superpowers into Rabona's affairs. When Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy arrived in Visegrad, the interim capitol of the Romanow Empire, she discovered Empress Katarzyna was governing from the Comnenian Royal Palace. Baroness Tuluzy quickly made her way to its back gates, no doubt deeply anxious about what she was about to do..." _

* * *

Dietrich had been waiting at the back gate of the palace for some time now, answering a series of increasingly annoying questions from a quartet of exquisitely dressed Imperial Guardsmen. They were clad in full plate armor, each of them wielding a halberd, their armor featuring gold-gilded patterns of wings, eagles, and swords. The largest of the four was their officer, a hulking captain, who was brushing his graying brown mustache thoughtfully as he listened to her.

"I understand your objections, really I do," Dietrich sympathized. "However Governor Wenceslaus said this is a personal message for Her Supreme Imperial Majesty only."

"We'll see about that. When a runner returns, we'll know whether to let you in or string you up," the captain hinted darkly.

Dietrich sat down on a stone bench, sighing, as the captain and his men returned to showily patrolling, their embroidered black and gold capes fluttering in the light breeze. The gate, which was barred to her, was huge, made of wrought iron, and was topped by an impressive, double-headed imperial eagle ornament gilded in gold. The gate was at the end of a cul-de-sac, with three-story brick walls on all sides. The place should have had a nice feel, but the massive amount of yoki Dietrich could feel inside the palace was deeply unsettling. Thankfully, since Katarzyna's overthrow of the High Command, she didn't have to worry about being executed for treason. This fact allowed her to relax, and moments later she fell asleep as she waited.

The clipped-clop of horses' hooves upon the cobblestone street awakened Dietrich from her nap. A small column of Imperial Guardsmen on horseback trotted into view as they marched towards the gate. She was attempting to surreptitiously get a better view of the commander, who was at the back of his column, identified only by a plume of black feathers on his helm. The commander saluted the captain, glancing to his left at her in genuine curiosity.

"Who's the guest, captain?"

"This silver-eyed slayer here is Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy, lesser nobility only Colonel," the captain said, implying her rank was insufficient to be of interest.

The Colonel got off his black horse, handed his reigns to a subordinate, and approached her, bowing as he took off his helmet to reveal a handsome face and dark brown hair. The man even had a charming smile upon his face.

"I must apologize for my admiration of your beauty," the Colonel said, bowing elegantly as the captain scowled behind him, "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Colonel Jaroslaw Tusk, commander of the Imperial Guard's 4th Heavy Cavalry Regiment. May I ask what such a charming silver-eyed lady is doing outside the empress' residence?"

"I am here to deliver a personal message from Governor Wenceslaus to Her Supreme Imperial Majesty," Dietrich explained, blushing badly at Tusk's efforts at charming her.

"Ah, so the good Duke Wenceslaus has sent you," Colonel Tusk exclaimed. "It must be an honor to serve such a noble and civilized man. How long ago did you send the runner?"

"It was...well, around half an hour ago," the captain said, sounding annoyed.

"You never sent a runner, did you captain?" Colonel Tusk asked.

The captain's face contorted, "Ah well, that is to say-"

"Were I your superior, captain, such pettiness would see you relieved of your position," Tusk bellowed before turning to her.

The captain merely scowled but remained silent, as Tusk outranked him.

Colonel Tusk grabbed Dietrich's right arm, kissing it several times, "My sincerest apologies Baroness, would you like me to send along one of my men on your behalf?"

She blushed at his attentions, particularly as she suspected he'd been looking down the plunging neckline of her white dress as he'd kissed her. Dietrich wished she was not so weak to male flattery.

"I would be most grateful to you," she said, trying hard to not be swooned.

Colonel Tusk immediately waved on one of his subordinates, and the gate was quickly opened by a subtly scowling captain. The cavalryman rode off onto a sandy path topped by vine-wrapped porticos and out of sight.

"I hope we meet again," Colonel Tusk said, blowing her a kiss as the others galloped off.

Tusk stood up, vaulted himself back onto his saddle, and waved goodbye as he rode past.

Dietrich found herself smiling and waving as Tusk disappeared into the gardens beyond the gate in spite of her normal reserved ways. She'd been waiting scarcely half a minute after Colonel Tusk left when a shadow jumped over her from inside the palace's walls. The Imperial Guardsmen jolted awake, unsheathing their swords with great speed.

"Hold it," the Imperial Guard captain shouted, the nearest Imperial Guardsmen halting his sword's swing in mid-air.

Standing before Dietrich was a taller male slayer in beautiful silver-colored armor. He wore a red crest of feathers atop his ornately decorated helmet; armored tassets protected his upper legs, a cuirass protecting his back, front and shoulders, while greaves and gauntlets protected his extremities. Unlike the straight-edged claymore strapped to the back of her dress, the male slayer carried a long, curved, single-edged Katana in his left hand.

Dietrich was left breathless in surprise, but then remembered to say 'good day' in the empire's tongue, "Dzień dobry".

The silver-eyed slayer did not return her greeting, as four of his comrades had jumped over the walls and landed around them. These slayers were all female, each having varying blond hair and silver eyes, and armored almost identically to the male slayer.

"Dzień dobry," the male slayer belatedly greeted her. "The empress has been expecting you Baroness Tuluzy."

"I'm expected?"

"Of course," the male slayer scoffed. "The empress scheduled your personal audience some three weeks ago. I would have preferred that you had arrived on-time yesterday, as it is extremely bad manners to make an empress of a third of the world wait," he finished, sounding rather insulted.

Dietrich realized that he was not lying about the personal audience, its scheduled time, or his feelings regarding her being "late" to something she'd never known about.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think Wenceslaus told anyone I was coming," Dietrich explained.

There was some good-natured chuckling now from the previously silent female slayers, who Dietrich noticed all wore exquisite black leather under their armor, just like the male slayer.

Dietrich asked, "Did I say something wrong?"

"James," a white-skinned slayer to Dietrich's left interrupted, "I think she's telling the truth. It seems Empress Katarzyna was attempting to predict the arrival of her guests again."

Dietrich realized as the female slayer talked that there could be only one way the empress knew of her secret mission on Wenceslaus' behalf: one of his aides was a spy for the empress.

"That's Lieutenant Commander Havel to you, Corporal," James shot back. "As a reward for your etiquette, you get the honors of inquiring when the empress will be available."

"But the empress is in the midst of a very-"

"I didn't say it'd be pleasant to ask Corporal," Havel coldly cut her off.

"Yes sir," the corporal glumly acknowledged, and then silently ran into the palace grounds.

Havel turned to Dietrich, "I am Lieutenant Commander James Havel, second-in-command of the Silver Guard. If you would leave your sword with the captain, we can begin."

"Begin? But I thought that corporal-"

"We'll be escorting you to the gardens, where you'll wait to meet the empress. Whether or not you will see Her Supreme Imperial Majesty however is entirely up to no one but the empress," Havel explained, "in the meantime, give your sword to Captain Kostunica."

Dietrich delicately handed her claymore to the human captain, as it was useless to not go along with Havel's orders, Dietrich reasoned. She'd noticed originally that the color of Havel's curved sword and his armor were the same and thought nothing of it. It was a stupid mistake not to notice, as the Silver Guards' armor was famed for being made from the same metal used in forging claymores: duratium.

As each member of the Silver Guard was an elite, their armor and skills rendered them invulnerable to all but the most powerful of enemies. The Silver Guard, as Dietrich remembered Wenceslaus telling her, was composed of one hundred members. They had started out as the Katarzyna Romanowa's loyal shock troops, and had steadily improved over the years into the world's most elite bodyguard force. The only things that could even contemplate tangling with the Silver Guard and surviving were the most elite of the silver-eyed slayers and Dragonkin.

The Silver Guard was also famed for their meritocratic diversity, and Dietrich was not disappointed. Of the five that had appeared before her, Havel and the corporal were white-skinned, two of the others were brown-skinned, and the last was black-skinned.

The female Silver Guards around Dietrich quickly fell into a square formation with Havel and escorted her through the gate.

Havel turned to her as soon as the Imperial Guardsmen were out of earshot, "I'm curious, but where did you pick up that accent of yours?"

"I was born on an island far the mainland," Dietrich curtly explained, "why?"

"If you were attempting to gain the empress' attention, you will succeed talking like that," Havel noted.

Dietrich felt her heart sink. She'd hoped the empress would focus exclusively on the message and not her. In fact, just thinking about possibly meeting the empress was giving her stomach fits. Ordinarily she was as calm and cool as a cat, but on the mainland she was way out of her comfort zone and she was also out of her league in trying to meet an empress.

Havel turned back to leading her onwards into the palace gardens, the escort of four Silver Guards now silent. Dietrich noticed that despite the overwhelming yoki emanating nearby, she couldn't feel any yoki from the Silver Guards she'd met. It was just another thing she'd have to report to Wenceslaus once she returned with the empress' reply to his message.

They walked along vine-shaded garden paths for ten minutes before Havel turned right at an opening in some hedges. She climbed up a small marble staircase to find a path lined by hundreds of halberd-wielding Imperial Guardsmen and hedges. They remained perfectly motionless as she passed them by, each of great stature. Finally the sandy path neared a clearing with a black and gold tent, the Imperial Guardsmen now replaced by more intimidating Silver Guards.

Upon reaching the tent's clearing Dietrich noticed the clearing was full of flowers, several large trees, a pair of beautiful fountains, and alive with birds' songs. A dozen colorful parrots flew out of nearby palm trees as she walked into the center of the clearing. Dietrich abruptly noticed the clearing had at least fifty Silver Guards in it, all of them at attention as they lined the clearing's edges. If there were only one hundred Silver Guards, then surely having half of them nearby was a sign the empress was coming Dietrich reasoned. There was even a nice wooden throne before the tent, but it was empty. The only people using the tent were a few nobles, their large yokis making it hard for Dietrich to move.

The corporal from earlier ran to Havel's side, gasping, "Sir, the empress is coming."

"Good, then we'll go through the etiquette guide for the Baroness and-"

"She's coming now, not in fifteen minutes!"

Havel whipped around to where the corporal was pointing while Dietrich turned to look as well. Dietrich noticed a brown-skinned female slayer of a statuesque build before her, her shoulder plates' rimmed in gold. Havel seemed to be deferential to the newcomer, so Dietrich rushed to judgment, falling to her knees and prostrating herself.

"Get up you idiot," Havel shouted, "That's the Silver Guard's Commander, Tymoshenko."

"Then why did the-"

"The individual dressed in black is the empress, not me," Tymoshenko explained.

Dietrich followed Tymoshenko's gaze down the path to see a small entourage of individuals being smartly saluted by Imperial Guardsmen. Four Silver Guards surrounded an individual wearing a black dress and an enormous, three-pointed hat. Two of the Silver Guards marched ahead and two behind of the empress. Thankfully, Dietrich thought, the empress was still several hundred meters away, so she had time to mentally rehearse the lines she'd been practicing for weeks.

"You've got to be kidding me," Havel commented, "the empress immediately left a war meeting to meet a Baroness?"

"Don't question the empress' decision," Tymoshenko hissed.

Commander Tymoshenko grabbed Dietrich as the empress approached closer and hustled her to one side of the path. Havel took up a position opposite and stood rigid, weapon sheathed, mere meters from the throne. Dietrich followed Havel's lead, standing rigid until Tymoshenko noticed. Dietrich was then pushed into a prostrate bow before the empress arrived.

Dietrich's heart pounded as she heard footfall nearby, and she could just glimpse the gleaming steel-clad feet of the first pair of Silver Guards. A beautiful black dress embroidered in gold came next, the empress moving silently past. The other pair of Silver Guards' feet walked past, and then Tymoshenko allowed her to stand up.

Dietrich glanced over to find the ornate wooden throne occupied, nobles fanning out to either side respectfully. Dietrich noticed the empress's black dress covered the empress neck to feet, its sleeves falling lazily from her arms. Her torso was covered in beautiful patterns of gold embroidery, which gave the empress a stunning, ornate appearance. The empress folded her arms, quietly conferring with the nobles next to her, utterly ignoring her. Dietrich used the moment to make a few more observations about the empress who ruled a third of the world.

The empress' black satin-gloved hands held a claymore, its hilt shaped like a pair of a golden eagle wings. Upon the sovereign's head was an immense triagonal black satin hat, which peaked far above. Two more points jutted out to either side, which gave the hat a triangular shape. Its numerous jewels of many colors and large size gave the empress a grand, exaggerated appearance, while attached to the hat's bottom were thick white veils. These covered the autocrat's face entirely, making it impossible to discern her expression. The hat conveyed a sense of absolute wealth due to its enormous blue sapphire, many red rubies arranged around it in a flower pattern, and decorative gold stitching. Other jewels, too numerous to describe adequately, decorated the rest of the hat.

Tymoshenko and Havel turned to face Empress Romanowa, both saluting as the empress turned her head as Havel began reading aloud, "Cesarzowa..."

It was a term Dietrich had only recently realized meant "Empress" in the Comnenian tongue. "Blessed mother of the imperial nation and supreme commander of the Romanow Empire," Havel declared, to which the empress uttered an audible sigh.

"The Silver Guard would like to express its wish that you choose a spouse and provide the empire with an heir to ensure the line of-"

"I've heard enough James," Empress Romanowa said in a beautiful, commanding female voice, "I will choose a spouse at a time of my choosing, and it will certainly not be you, so please stop this foolish charm offensive. I'd never hear the end of the insinuations if I ended up marrying one of my bodyguards," Empress Romanowa continued, her voice full of supreme feminine authority.

"Yes Cesarzowa," Havel gulped, looking crestfallen. Dietrich couldn't help but frown in surprise; the empress' character was far different than the capricious and vindictive murderer she'd expected. But then again Wenceslaus had warned her not to pre-judge the empress...

"Now then," Empress Romanowa said, "This must be our guest, correct?"

Tymoshenko prodded Dietrich to stand, and then pushed her directly before the empress, where she bowed from the waist mere meters from the empress.

"Cesarzowa," Commander Tymoshenko said, "this individual is Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy, and she is here on behalf of-"

"Wenceslaus," the empress interjected, at which point Dietrich glanced up, "Don't look so surprised Baroness. My spy network is not so incompetent that they'd miss your little mission."

Dietrich remained silent, just like Wenceslaus had told her to.

"I'd like to have the message you're carrying," Empress Romanowa demanded.

Dietrich pulled out Wenceslaus' message, which Tymoshenko grabbed and then presented to the empress. Empress Romanowa opened the paper and read through the opaque veil.

"I would like to ask Your Supreme Imperial Majesty to be lenient in the sentencing of Alexander Comnenus, who has committed no crime," the Empress read aloud. "If you could find it in your heart to not execute him, I would be most grateful."

"He thinks he can dictate to us," Havel quietly hissed.

"So Baroness," the empress stated, "what do you have to say about Wenceslaus' terms?"

A question coming from an authoritarian ruler was a question that demanded an answer.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean Cesarzowa," Dietrich answered candidly.

The empress put down the note and stopped reading.

"You seem rather more loyal than I expected; most messengers are curious about a top-secret message," the empress praised.

"Thank you Cesarzowa," Dietrich replied.

Dietrich noticed she could feel no yoki coming from the empress, but many of great strength were more than capable of hiding their yoki.

"It's also rare for a messenger to have a foreign accent," the empress pointed out. Dietrich chillingly realized her accent hadn't gone unnoticed, just as Havel had warned.

Empress Romanowa stood up, the empress' tall frame towering over Dietrich as the empress examined her. Katarzyna held her chin up with a hand, and walked around as Dietrich's heart raced.

"Where are you originally from Baroness?"

The empress asked with an insatiable curiosity in her voice.

"The island of Toulouse, Cesarzowa," Dietrich answered, trying her best not to flinch as the empress' silver eyes became just visible beneath the veils, both of them staring straight into her own.

"Ah, so at long last, my dear Wenceslaus has found me another Organization exile," the empress said approvingly. "Perhaps Audrey and you can have a nice chat later. I have a question for you first Baroness: what was the Organization's true purpose?"

Dietrich's stomach clenched, "The rebels claimed the Organization existed solely to create the perfect, controllable awakened being."

"Who partnered with Audrey when she was an Organization soldier?"

Dietrich realized the empress was testing her to see if in fact she was actually an exiled Organization claymore.

"The No. 5 Rachel partnered with Audrey, Cesarzowa."

"It seems you are indeed the genuine article, but if Wenceslaus thinks this is enough to sway me, he thought wrong," the empress declared to Dietrich's consternation.

"I don't follow what you mean Cesarzowa," Dietrich admitted, flustered.

The empress sniffed, "Ah, so you aren't aware of what Wenceslaus is after, are you?"

"I..."

"Well, never you mind that, the one hundred rebel warriors are still going to die for their treason, whether Wenceslaus says no or not. I never even considered Alexander Comnenus' execution, however you may tell your master I do NOT need his permission to rule," the empress stated coldly.

"But you do need Wenceslaus' support, or else you would never have received me Cesarzowa," Dietrich boldly pointed out.

It would have been possible to hear a pin drop in the shocked hush that followed her bold and more-than-a-little-stupid outburst. The normally stoic Silver Guards nearest were all looking over, some wearing shocked faces, others looking very angry, and a few giving Dietrich appraising smiles. They all held back from saying anything, as the empress's eyes were narrowed underneath the veil.

"Well," Empress Romanowa began, "You certainly are a bold one, although you are lucky to live in my era as ruler. In the days of the old high command, speaking to a queen in such a recklessly bold and thoughtlessly frank manner would have gotten you killed."

"I don't think we ought to kill her Cesarzowa," a silver-eyed noblewoman broke in.

"I was not saying we would Rima," Empress Romanowa explained, sounding annoyed with the taller of the two nobles standing behind the throne.

This silver-eyed noblewoman had mixed features, with a Maghrebi's bronzed skin and arched eyebrows, but long Siyamese-like blond hair, narrower Siyamese eyes, and a nose belonging to neither group. The shorter silver-eyed noblewoman had the features of a white-skinned Khaledonian, and a nose that would have looked familiar on the island of Toulouse.

"Given your manners, Kasia would be the best member of the family for you," the empress nodded approvingly, "and Kasia is in need of an assistant right now. As for sending you back to Wenceslaus to tell him all this, I think not. If Wenceslaus wants to demand so much, he can come see me himself if he wants his answer."

Dietrich wanted to blurt out, protest, anything but just stand there like a fool left out to dry, but she couldn't do anything. Kasia was last-in-line to the throne of all the Imperial Princesses, and thus unlikely to help sway the empress' opinion towards Wenceslaus' goals. Kasia was so unknown an Imperial Princess that even Wenceslaus didn't even know what it was Kasia did for the empress.

"But I suppose I'm not giving Wenceslaus' messenger a fair chance to show her worth, so I have one small task for you Baroness," the empress stated, bemused.

"Yes, what is it Cesarzowa?"

"Your comrade Audrey was not able to accurately show me where the island of Tuluzy is, and I'm very much interested in retrieving what remains of the Organization's research from the island," Empress Romanowa said while taking a globe of the world off a nearby table.

"Cesarzowa, in all likelihood the Grand Alliance has already-"

"You would be surprised at how careless the Grand Alliance can be," the empress stated. "Even if it's only remnants, there is still some value in gaining knowledge of the Organization's research. If the Grand Alliance hinders our efforts, we'll have more than enough means to end their meddling."

"Of course Cesarzowa."

Havel handed Dietrich a pen while Tymoshenko gave Dietrich the globe.

"If you genuinely want to help your dear master as much as your face tells me you do, then give me the island of Tuluzy's location," the empress instructed.

Dietrich ignored the mispronunciation of "Toulouse" and began to draw the island as quickly as she dared...


	2. Chapter 1: Dangerous Developments

**Chapter 1: ****Dangerous Developments**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**A year after the Organization's fall, the political situation on the island of Toulouse seemed to predict a long and slow-moving political future. At the time the future king, Charles of Lautrec, was a mere upstart duke. Meanwhile in Rabona the church had been forced to give taxing authority to the Council of Lords. By most measures, not much seemed to be growing, except, perhaps, for the size of bandit armies. Given the seemingly bleak future, the choice of many claymores to head north to live in their own "paradise" at Pieta was quite understandable.**

**Had someone been transported two years ahead in time, they would be forgiven for their shock. Duke Charles had created the Kingdom of Lautrec in the interim, nearly conquered Rabona, and during his second attempt had lost his life. His son Philippe had taken over the young Kingdom, aided by his scheming queen, Violetta. While the young kingdom had suffered a setback, its control over the western lands of Lautrec was solidified.**

**Rabona in contrast had gone from the long, slow decline of the last century and suddenly found renewed strength. Its military was first revived by Bishop Vincent, and then massively improved and expanded after "Phantom" Miria took it over. Two and a half years after the Organization's fall, Miria was hamstrung by church doctrine in defending Rabona. The Council of Lords overthrew the Rabona Orthodox Church's six-century rule over Rabona with help from Miria and the army.**

**After unleashing an unprecedented night attack upon King Charles' Army, the Rabonese Army triumphed in the hard-fought Battle of Kerouac Gorge. ****With the Kingdom of Lautrec no longer a threat, Rabona's government, renamed "The Dominion of Toulouse", expanded and even annexed the northern lands of Alphonse. However, some three years after the Organization's fall, the island's politics changed forever. The Romanow Empire's creation and fear of its brilliant empress led the Grand Alliance to send an ultimatum to the Dominion of Toulouse: join or face invasion. With the Romanow Empire expanding its naval reach, the island of Toulouse seemed set to become the Global Hundred Years' War latest proxy fight.**

**Unfortunately for the island of Toulouse, these political surprises were not the worst of those to come…**

* * *

Miria had a lot of problems with the situation at present. Her issues were centered primarily on why she had her honeymoon with her new husband Cid prematurely ended. After the wedding, they'd traveled north to Pieta. Just west of the town in which the Northern War had ended ten years prior was her favorite place: the Pieta Hot Springs. Cid and her had scarcely arrived and done what newlyweds were supposed to when Renée had arrived, breathless.

Renée informed her she'd been sent on behalf of the Council of Lords, the ruling body of the Rabona's government. The message they'd sent with Renée was downright alarming and ruined her honeymoon. Renée informed her that an Ambassador Duke von Rundstedt had arrived and demanded the Dominion join within three years or face invasion. The Grand Alliance hoped to use Rabona's growing strength to combat a dangerous new threat: the Romanow Empire.

Renée 's message had confused Miria. They'd overthrown the Organization some three years prior, and Miria's hope had been that its downfall would lead to a negotiated peace between the great warring alliances. Instead the Alliance of Nations, the Organization's backers, had evidently decided to fight on. For this the ambassador blamed Miria and her comrades, which Miria could not quite believe when she heard it.

Their reasoning was more depressing: somehow one of the warriors still loyal to the Organization had carried some very dangerous knowledge back to the main continent. That knowledge was nothing less than how a warrior could surpass their Yoma energy limits while retaining their human mind. The effects Miria knew well: she herself was partially awakened. It made warriors like her stronger, while improving their rate of combat improvement. Such knowledge could have very well allowed the Organization's backers, the Alliance of Nations, to continue fighting.

In the ensuing two years, the Grand Alliance had seen a nightmare transpire. A veteran warrior by the name of Katarzyna Romanowa had risen through the ranks. Everywhere she'd led troops, disasters and defeats had hit the Grand Alliance. A little more than two years after the Organization's fall, she'd killed the Alliance of Nations' high command and seized control of the military. The less competent Alliance of Nations was replaced overnight by the far more unified and brilliantly led Romanow Empire.

There was going to be a massive Council of Lords meeting tonight concerning the Grand Alliance's demands. Miria wanted to keep clear of the global war, but her wish was not to be. Unfortunately, her troubles with the Grand Alliance's demands were not the only she had. There was also the small matter of dealing with an incident.

Miria was in her office, a horrible racket of construction work muffled only by the stone and closed windows. It was much the same as previously; she sat at a grand oak desk in the far end. In the room's middle was a grand strategy table; while on the room's edges were black sofas. A pair of wooden chairs facing her desk lay empty; they wouldn't be for long.

Miria glanced up when she heard the door open. Commander Nina, wearing full armor, gold-gilded pauldrons and all, walked in looking unusually happy.

Miria eyed the long ponytailed Nina, "Commander, I'm going to be meeting Claire in a few minutes. I trust this is about something that can't wait?"

Nina smiled, taking out a brown bag, "Remember that mine you, me, Renée , Helen, Nadia and Virginia invested in six months ago?"

Miria frowned, "Yes, I remember a bit. Nadia found some quartz and silver and started up a hobby mine with our combined money north of Pieta. Is it still losing money or are—"

Nina opened the bag and poured out a glittering pile of diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Miria's eyes went wide at the staggering wealth piled upon her desk.

"Oh my god, are you telling me—"

Nina laughed, "We hit the mother lode! This is just a small sample I've brought. We're bringing the first shipment down from Pieta. It's in a ship that just arrived in secret."

"Nina, I'm overjoyed," Miria waxed, shaking Nina's hand. "But I don't think you needed to give me these diamonds. I know I own half the shares in the mine, but I don't need all of them for my personal use."

"There are ten tons of diamonds in just the first shipment," Nina declared.

Miria could hardly believe her ears, "Ten tons?"  
Nina grinned, "Well, actually we have another five shipments on their way behind it, each with more diamonds than that. Virginia thinks the first shipment alone ought to net us 100,000 Francs in profit. Even when prices drop, Virginia thinks the first six shipments will earn around a million Francs. If we ship them abroad to the Grand Alliance, we could earn even more!"

Miria felt her head swimming; she thought she'd been "rich" before while earning 10,000 Francs and having a husband who earned four times that. By most measurements however, she was not that rich. 10,000 Francs would barely pay for a nice small manor in Rabona. 40,000 a year would be just enough to maintain it. The Île des Poires river isle was available for a mere 105,000 Francs because of the fear of attack, and Miria had gone heavily into debt to pay for it.

The economy, which had been depressed by the war, was now booming. The female servants she'd had were leaving for other work now, attracted by far higher wages. The labor force of nearly a thousand had shrunk to three hundred already, mere months later. The merchants, once constricted by bandits, saw a massive surge in their profits. The "merchant kings" to whom the Council of Lords was so beholden were earning millions, and increasingly tens of millions of Francs.

Miria paused a moment to collect her wild thoughts, and then the door opened. A short-haired claymore in a simple blue and yellow dress walked in, a massive sword attached to her back.

Nina bragged, "Claire! Look at what our mine dug up!"

Claire's eyebrows arched in surprise, "It's not very good manners to remind someone who isn't rich how much money you have."

"Jeez," Nina sneered, "I'd forgotten you'd taken a vow of poverty."

"I didn't take a vow of poverty, I just don't believe I should earn more than I need," Claire clarified. "What did you want to see me about Miria?"

"Nina, please take the jewels and store them somewhere safe," Miria instructed.

Nina grabbed the jewels carefully, swept them into the bag, and then quietly left the room with a single glance back.

Claire nonchalantly sat down in a chair facing Miria's desk and waited expectantly.

"Claire, I wanted to thank you again from saving me from awakening," Miria said, hoping to tamp down Claire's confrontational attitude. "The only reason why I summoned you here is—"

"All you want to do is tell me not to knock out Galatea," Claire interrupted. "I don't care if I did knock her out, she deserved it."

"Claire, I realize you two have your religious differences, but—"

Miria was interrupted by the door being slammed open to her office. A nun with milk white eyes, a blue and white dress, and a tall build ran in screaming.

The ex-warrior Galatea screamed, "What did you do to my hair Claire?"

Claire flashed Galatea an evil grin, "What's the matter Galatea? I thought a woman of the church shouldn't care about material things."

Miria noticed that Galatea's long, flowing locks were completely gone. Her beauty was marred by a shaved head, which gave Galatea a jarring appearance in Miria's opinion. Galatea didn't take kindly to Claire's goading, and promptly tackled Claire. The tackle knocked Claire to the floor, simultaneously smashing both of the chairs facing Miria's desk.

"Stop it," Miria screamed.

Neither of them seemed to hear a word, as they were busily rolling over, kicking, punching and elbowing one another. Claire let out a scream, as Galatea's hands had pulled loose a modest lock of Claire's hair. Miria jumped over her desk, attempting to separate the two. Abruptly another four claymores jumped into the room, all of them attempting to help.

Claire managed to kick Galatea off with some force. Galatea was sent flying straight into white-haired Virginia, each of them smashing into the room's grand strategy table. It was smashed in half to Miria's horror. Miria in anger knocked Claire senseless with a blow to the back of the head. Galatea was simultaneously knocked senseless by Virginia and her coif-haired cousin, Camilla.

"Give them some yoki pills and send them home," Miria snapped, losing her temper.

The two claymores were hoisted, unconscious, out of Miria's door as she surveyed the wreckage of her office. She was cursing her ill luck, as the visitor chairs, the expensive strategy table, and several of her black sofas were complete wrecks. She sat at her office chair in mournful contemplation of what had just happened for several minutes.

White-haired Virginia, wearing steel pauldrons and navy-blue leather, walked in eventually as Miria sighed.

Miria asked sharply, "What the hell do you think happened to those two girls Virginia?"

Virginia's lip curled, looking as if she found the subject distasteful.

Miria raised an eyebrow, "Well?"

"I don't think it has anything to do with religion," Virginia declared to Miria's shock.

Miria's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I know everyone thinks they're having religious issues, but I think the spat comes from something far more personal and material."

"Like what?"

Raki and Yuma abruptly walked into the office, each of them pulling short and looking at the carnage left by Claire and Galatea's tussle.

"Raki, you have amazing timing," Miria complimented to the hunky male claymore. "We were just discussing why your wife and Sister Galatea got into a fight and wrecked my office."

Raki, wearing fine white breeches, a green coat, and long brown boots looked astonished, as did Yuma for that matter.

Raki exclaimed, "My goodness, what the hell happened between them?"

"Claire shaved Galatea's hair in revenge, I presume, for Galatea calling all your children illegitimate," Miria explained. "What we were wondering is why they had this spat to begin with. Did their spat start because of religious differences or something else?"

Raki hesitated a moment, "Well, I know they do have religious differences, but I don't know how it started."

Virginia scoffed, "You're lying Raki, and you know it."

Raki bit back, "I am not lying!"

Virginia boldly continued, "Why don't you just admit it all started when Claire caught you having sex with Galatea in a church confession box?"

Raki was stunned silent, and with a glare he left the room to collective shock.

Miria recovered first, "Virginia, what do you mean—"

"Their dispute has nothing to do with religion," Virginia clarified. "Claire and Galatea were both interested in Raki in the first month after our victory over the Organization. He's vulnerable to feminine charms, so he wound up unable to resist either. Eventually Claire and Galatea found out and blamed each other, not Raki."

Miria objected, "But even I've experienced Galatea's fanaticism."

"Galatea might have been religious before, but she wasn't a fanatic," Virginia explained. "She loved children more than anything else, and the church helped her care for them. She bedded Raki because she wanted a child of her own. When she got caught, Claire and Galatea made a point of differentiating themselves from one another. Galatea started becoming religiously orthodox, while Claire adopted just the opposite stance."

"So you're saying Galatea and Claire became religious because they were fighting over Raki?"

"It was how they antagonized one another, and eventually they started saying things so much they believed them," Virginia answered. "I found this entire story out by sneaking a few reads of Claire and Galatea's journals."

Yuma huffed, "But you really shouldn't do that Virginia!"

"Maybe not, but I understand what's going on," Virginia grinned. "By the way Yuma, why are you wearing a red dress?"

"Oh, I just wanted to dress up for the Council of Lords meeting tonight," Yuma admitted.

"I'm guessing the reason why Claire has been giving all the other claymores suspicious looks is she thinks we're after Raki," Miria sighed.

"Well you have to admit he's the only one on the island that we can conceive with," Virginia pointed out. "I know at least a third of the girls desperately want children of their own. If that means they have to risk Claire's wrath, at least some of them would do it. It's why Claire is so paranoid around us."

* * *

The Kingdom of Lautrec had solidified in the six months since the passing of King Charles. Philippe had taken power as king after escaping from the disastrous defeat at the Kerouac Gorge. It was there, west of Rabona, in the main passage through the mountains to the western lands of Lautrec that everything had gone horribly wrong. Phantom Miria had transformed into some sort of angelic demon, and then later a beautifully monstrous cat and wreaked bloody hell upon the army.

To his disbelief, Philippe was soon thereafter told that Miria was back to her human form, seemingly back to normal. He knew better; underneath Miria's beautiful locks of hair was a huge, terrifying monster. She had to be killed; life on the island could never be safe with her existing. In fact, if Miria were any guide, Miria, her daughter Natalie, and the rest of her mongrel kind should be killed for the good of mankind.

He found his zeal to kill them served him well now, although serving him even better was the advice of his scheming wife, Queen Violetta. He'd originally had Violetta kidnapped from her home on his way to attack Rabona. Her parents and relatives he'd had killed, just like his father's right hand man, General Davout, had recommended. The beautiful Violetta then became one of his five consorts. After the defeat, he'd given little thought to her, which was either his greatest mistake or the best thing he could've done.

Unlike his other consorts, Violetta was well-educated and ambitious, a dangerous combination. While he'd moped and mourned the loss of his father and their assault army, Violetta had plotted. She'd begun seizing the power behind the throne, and in one quick move had gone for power. She arranged the deaths of his other consorts, the mothers of children he'd allegedly fathered, and offered him a bargain. The bargain was that he could live and help unify the kingdom, while Violetta would become his exclusive queen and be the power behind the throne. With Violetta nearly five months pregnant, his optimism was returning.

Together with Violetta, he could found a lasting dynasty and make a mark upon history. Violetta had hatched a plan to eventually unify the island under the Kingdom of Lautrec. There was one major problem; the Dominion of Toulouse, centered on Rabona. It was more powerful and its forces were commanded by the monstrous Lieutenant General Miria. In short, it seemed an insurmountable challenge to his dream.

Violetta however had arranged to meet with a mysterious individual who claimed to be able to help. Thus he was sitting next to the black-haired Violetta in his carriage, having traveled several hours outside of Gonal to the hilly outskirts with a couple hundred Royal Guardsmen.

A knock came on the carriage's door brought Philippe to attention.

A young red-cloaked and armored Royal Guard opened the door, "Your Majesty, the messenger has arrived. He wishes to speak with you outside."

Philippe arched turned his handsome face and arched his eyebrows at white dress and crown-wearing wife.

"If he wants to meet us outside, we'll leave the carriage," Violetta declared. "We don't have much of a choice if he represents who he claims to."

Philippe, wearing a regal red cape, white and red robes and a crown, carefully got up. He walked down the carriage's steps and hopped down onto the ground, the early dawn light just enough to see by. He helped Violetta, whose belly was beginning to become obviously pregnant, down the steps. She looked around at the procession of five carriages and nearby Royal Guards.

"There he is," Violetta said, pointing behind Philippe.

Philippe noticed they were in a large clearing atop a plateau. Standing near the edge of the plateau was a man with a black, wide-brimmed hat and darkened circular glasses. He was dressed in plain black pants and a long black shirt, although a red cape gave him a more distinguished appearance. He appeared middle-aged, and was not particularly attractive to the eyes. Following behind the emissary were a quartet of younger men more flashily dressed in whites and reds, each with plumes of red and white feathers atop their wide-brimmed black hats.

"I'll do most of the talking," Violetta made clear.

"That is unacceptable dear," he hissed at Violetta as they walked forward.

"Face the facts dear," Violetta whispered back, "You may be a smooth talker and have amazing good looks, but you lack the political skills for something like this."

"Your Majesties," the emissary said in perfect Toulousan, "I am the emissary of the Grand Alliance, Rubel Louvre."

"It's a pleasure to meet you emissary," Violetta charmed. "The Kingdom of Lautrec is interested in forging a more permanent and lasting relationship with the Grand Alliance."

Rubel smiled, "As is the Grand Alliance I assure you. Before we talk about any possible treaty, I would like Your Majesties to understand the importance of the world situation."

A younger comrade of Rubel brought forward a large globe with all sorts of islands, a grand continent, and oceans upon it. In one distant corner Philippe thought he recognized the island of Toulouse with its four pointed peninsulas. Violetta's eyes grew wide with curiosity, as did Philippe's own. Rubel drew out a large pointing stick.

"This," Rubel said, pointing to the globe with his stick, "is the best map we yet have of this world. As you can see, our world is a globe. One can get from end to the other via the Great Ocean, in the middle of which this island is located. The Grand Alliance's territories are in white."

An immense section of the great continent was colored in white, with numerous cities, kingdoms, duchies, empires, and much else marked within it. Next to the Grand Alliance, marked in alarming red, was something called the Romanow Empire. Violetta paused, as did Philippe, each looking in cautious interest at the empire. It was not nearly as large as the Grand Alliance, but it was a single empire that dwarfed each of the Grand Alliance's member-states.

"Ah yes," Rubel remarked, "the Romanow Empire. It is not yet a year old, but already it threatens all free nations on this planet. It is led by the most dangerous person on the face of the planet: Katarzyna Romanowa."

"Katarzyna Romanowa," Violetta and Philippe repeated, both of them looking questioningly at Rubel.

Rubel handed over an image of someone in a gorgeous black and gold embroidered dress. Her face was veiled, and her head was concealed underneath an enormous three pointed hat. At its center was a blue sapphire nearly the size of the individual's veiled face. The individual held a sword that looked uncomfortably similar, in Philippe's eyes, to those wielded by claymores.

The image was in fact a throne scene. Katarzyna Romanowa was seated in an enormous, golden throne, looking gloriously rich, wealthy and powerful. Just behind and to either side of the throne were two individuals with eyes that made Philippe stomach grip in fear.

"I expected you would notice Your Majesty," Rubel commented. "Katarzyna Romanowa, as well as her most loyal supporters and the Imperial Family itself are composed of silver-eyed witches. She was once nothing more than an elite soldier who fought on behalf of the Grand Alliance's enemies, the Alliance of Nations. In part, thanks to the overthrow of the Organization, her kind became much more important in the war."

Philippe had already heard enough to know he would never like this Katarzyna Romanowa. After all, she was a silver-eyed monster just like Phantom Miria.

Violetta asked, "How did this Katarzyna Romanowa rise to power?"

"Katarzyna Romanowa's kind was called "silver-eyed slayers". They were originally nothing more than backup troops to the Alliance of Nations' more dangerous weapons. After the Organization's fall they had no choice but to use slayers as their primary elite troops. A number of slayers, including Katarzyna, became officers and commanders in their military. Just over eight months ago she was promoted to Marshal. The high command invited her to their meeting…"

Violetta's eyes narrowed, "She overthrew their high command, didn't she?"

"Their high command foolishly entrusted their safety to a unit called the Silver Guard, which was composed of one hundred slayers and former subordinates of Katarzyna. We believe they closed the doors and slaughtered the high command like dogs. We know she preceded this by having her allies seize control of most of their military."

Rubel's hand paused as he pointed to a city marked "Visegrad".

"Katarzyna's coup set off a war that killed millions, and from which she has emerged more powerful than ever. As a military commander and leader, she has never been defeated in the field of battle even before she became a Marshal. She declared herself the empress of the Romanow Empire, which grows more deadly by the day. We believe her ultimate goal is nothing less than the conquest of the entire world."

Rubel's words hung over them like an ominous cloud.

Philippe wrapped an arm around Rubel's shoulders, "So my dear Rubel, how can our young kingdom help to stop her?"

Rubel smiled, "The Grand Alliance needs new allies worldwide to help stop her Your Majesty. We hope that, one way or another, the Kingdom of Lautrec and the Dominion of Toulouse will be joined underneath your leadership. Despite the small size of this island, it can help to make a crucial contribution against Empress Katarzyna."

Violetta seemed skeptical, "How could we make a difference in the global war?"

Rubel shrugged off Philippe's arm and walked back to the globe.

Rubel pointed his stick at the island of Toulouse and smiled, "That is an excellent question Queen Violetta. Before Katarzyna's coup, the Alliance of Nations enjoyed global sea supremacy, which allowed the Organization to continue its work. Following Katarzyna's coup, much of their navy was torn apart by internal fighting or defected to the Grand Alliance. As of this moment, the Imperial Romanow Navy and our own are very evenly matched. With the contribution of this island's resources, we may be able to finally triumph on the high seas."

Violetta inquired, "So what is the treaty you desire to make with our kingdom?"

Rubel handed over a clutch of papers to Violetta, "Your Majesties, the Grand Alliance wishes to form a secret alliance with the Kingdom of Lautrec. In exchange we would like a secret naval base, free trade rights, and guaranteed aid of our warships and merchants upon landfall."

Philippe spoke up, "But I'm afraid, if this empress is as dangerous as you say, we may need more than just naval protection. What if the Dominion of Toulouse should align itself with her?"

Rubel shouted at a member of his entourage near a pile of boxes, "Herr Badstuber, bitte bring mir die Armbrust und demonstrieren sie für ihre Majestäten."

A young man brought something forward that looked vaguely like a miniature siege ballista. He carried it in his arms as if it was not a great weight, and indeed it looked light and was roughly the length of his torso. Two spans of metal-reinforced wood spread to either side each pulled taut by strings to the back.

"What in the world is that?"

Rubel smiled at him, "This is the weapon most effective in countering massed attacks of silver-eyed witches: a crossbow. It has the greatest range and penetrating power of any bow on this world. We even improved its reloading time recently by making it a bolt-action reloader. Herr Badstuber will demonstrate its accuracy by firing on that target over there."

Philippe and Violetta turned to see a scarecrow target with a watermelon for a head a good distance away.

The brown-haired Badstuber fitted a wicked looking and unusual metal arrow bolt to the crossbow, took aim, and fired. The arrow moved at such speed Philippe barely saw it. The result he soon saw: the watermelon was splattered, the bolt having embedded deep into the ground behind it.

Rubel had a triumphant grin upon his face, "Pinpoint accuracy as you can see, and from fifty meters away no less! Crossbows have a range of just greater than two hundred meters, and are useful against fast targets and armored soldiers. As a token of our goodwill, once the treaty is signed, we will award 10,000 crossbows."

Philippe, Violetta and Rubel walked up to the splattered watermelon, which had fallen off the scarecrow. Philippe took off a glove and examined the watermelon.

"I think you've made a persuasive argument," he commented.

They signed the treaty within minutes, with Rubel leaving within a few hours. He promised that a permanent delegation of the Grand Alliance would be stationed in Gonal within months. The naval protection would start immediately Rubel told them, promising a Grand Alliance squadron would deal with the "Bretonese pirates" hitting Lautrec's coast. This left Philippe very satisfied.

He walked back over to the watermelon and was examining it one last time as Violetta walked over, "What in the world is so fascinating about a splattered watermelon?"

"Just think, if we'd had a bunch of those crossbows in Kerouac Gorge, the head of the bitch that killed my father would look like that," Philippe replied.

"Miria's daughter, by your own reckoning, survived over forty arrows to the body," Violetta pointed out. "We should concentrate our energy on other things."

Philippe sighed, "I wonder what that horrible murderer is up to right now."

* * *

"Ok you vittle, adorable Monsieur cutey," Natalie chirped to her adorable pet tiger, "come on, time for your bath!"

Dabi had already visibly grown since her adoptive mother Miria's wedding to her new father, Count Cid Malaga. Dabi had rather spectacularly crashed the wedding party by sneaking onto a table and gulping down a half platter of fish. There'd been much laughing about this, and Natalie had found Dabi being gifted fish in the week since. The cat had seemed to take a rather great liking to fish.

This had an unfortunate side effect of Dabi discovering that fish came from rivers and swimming in the dirty Toulouse River. Natalie had yet to find another cat that enjoyed water like Dabi, and she also had yet to find another cat getting himself as smelly on a regular basis. Her mother had arrived home last night, as she'd been summoned home from her honeymoon with Cid prematurely.

Whether it was the premature end of the honeymoon or the serious threat made by the Grand Alliance, mom had been in a rather bad mood. She'd taken one whiff of Dabi and declared he was to be washed immediately. Thus Natalie was awkwardly hauling forward a wooden tub towards her island home's major well. Dabi was following along, no doubt expecting he'd be rewarded by fish if he did. She wanted to carry him, hug him, and squish him with her affection, but she was wearing a nice blue dress and Dabi was covered in filth.

Her dress was symbolic of her new status; Natalie officially now had the title of "Lady". This was due to her parents' marriage and Cid's joining of Rabona's ruling elite, the Council of Lords. Thus her parents were now officially Count Cid Malaga and honorary Countess Miria de Beauharnais-Malaga. Their new titles had attracted some smarting remarks from unexpected quarters, namely from mom's old friend, Claire.

"We've brought you soap, towels, washcloths, and shampoo Lady Malaga," a woman's voice called out.

Natalie turned to find a quartet of maidservants, each dressed in dark green, their hair concealed underneath bonnets. Each was shorter than Natalie, and they were already rushing forward to help. Two were already pumping water into the large tub, while another was arranging the towels. The eldest, a middle-aged maid, grabbed Dabi and plopped him down in the tub.

"It's fine, really," Natalie said, wanting to personally clean the young tiger cub, "I can clean Dabi myself and—"

"Nonsense my Lady," the elder maid smiled, "the Countess would be very upset with us if you were to get your fine dress stained. It is not proper for a lady of upstanding birth to get herself dirty. We can get him cleaned up. Now then, shoo, we'll have him cleaned up and you can get back to your studies and duties."

Natalie would have rather liked to tell the maidservant that in her prior life she didn't just get filthy, but was at times covered in Yoma blood after combat. Somehow though Natalie got the feeling Miria would not appreciate her grossing out the maids and behaving "unlady-like". What that meant when one was a silver-eyed claymore was hard to know.

Natalie walked off and watched enviously as the maids laughed, splashing and washing the playful, adorable Dabi in his tub. She almost wished she could go back a few months, when things were simpler. A time when she didn't wake up every morning to find maids fussing over her hair, selecting and buying dresses and other clothes on her behalf, and cleaning her quarters all the time.

Her newlywed parents had grown very rich, with Miria and Cid having enough money to buy an exclusive river isle, the Île des Poires, or the Isle of Pears. It was located a mere mile south of Rabona's ever-more-fortified city walls. It looked pear-shaped from above, the river splitting and then wrapping around it to rejoin. It was topped by a small hill, which afforded great views of Rabona and the Toulouse River. The river isle, surrounded by the slow-moving waters of the Toulouse River, was both easily protected and idyllic.

Natalie walked north across the Île des Poires, crossing through the orchard, where hundreds of female field hands were hard at work. Natalie eventually came into the island's north, where all the buildings were. A large house at the island's northernmost point was her home. It had a steep shingled roof, had a grand front porch, and was colored a rich red, and had green decorating steps.

Natalie was walking up the cobblestone lane to the front porch when she noticed a group of familiar individuals sitting upon the porch.

A jocular voice addressed her, "Yo little lady, where's your bad-smelling cat?"

* * *

Valencia announced, "You guys won't believe this, but I'm going to get married!"

Renée sniffed in polite disbelief, as did the short, voluptuous Nadia, the taller Helen, the petite and thin Tabitha, the very tall, long-ponytailed Matilda, and the pigtailed, innocent-looking Alexandra. They were all silver-eyed witches, all of them wearing their usual navy-blue leather outfits that were nearly skin-tight. Each of them was also wearing a little armor; a pair of steel pauldrons over the shoulders, and a pair of gauntlets over the hands, wrists and lower arms. Helen, Nadia and Renée 's armor stood out, as their pauldrons were gilded brilliant gold.

Valencia was dressed much differently in a red dress, which she had seemingly selected for how low it was cut. They were standing and sitting around the interim manor of Cid and Miria's river isle estate.

Valencia made clear what she thought of their disbelief, "None of you would be sneering in disbelief if I were Nina!"

Helen commented as Renée remained tactfully quiet, "Ok, fine, I'll bite. Who the hell did you get engaged to?"

Valencia held out her left hand, and Renée gasped as she saw the ring.

"Captain Jean Paul Murat and I are to be married in two weeks," Valencia bragged. "He said he couldn't wait until our wedding night!"

"Boy, I can only imagine what that'll be like," Helen grinned.

Valencia took a step towards the seated Helen, "What the hell is that supposed to mean Colonel?"

Renée knew immediately why Valencia had gotten so feisty. Valencia, like a number of the few dozen claymores who'd survived, had been forced into less-than-savory professions to survive. Given that almost all Yoma and Awakened Beings had been wiped out in the initial island-wide hunt, a claymore's profession was no longer possible. Some like herself, Helen, Tabitha, Natalie and Phantom Miria had taken to protecting traveling merchants as a profession.

Valencia, like a number of claymores, had taken to prostitution, escort service, dancing in clubs, and maid work. Renée had been skeptical of how successful claymores could be in such professions. However, there was a secret to their success: belly-concealing corsets. With their scars covered, men were much more easily enamored of beautiful silver-eyed girls with blond hair.

Valencia however, amongst all the claymores, was renowned, infamous even, for the type of prostitution she had specialized in. Valencia had shamelessly revealed to Renée months ago that it involved male domination fantasies. Valencia would dress up in tight black leather while wielding a small leather whip. From what little Valencia said, Renée knew Valencia would inform her male clients they'd "been very bad boys". After this Valencia told them she was there to "administer their punishment". Valencia had even unnecessarily shared the fact that many of the men had enjoyed her lightly whipping them as things got "heated".

Valencia might have once been oblivious to how this sort of thing was viewed by the other claymores. Now however, Renée was confident Valencia realized just how much snide laughter was made behind her back about it. Thus Valencia's expression had just soured the moment Helen, now a full Colonel like Renée , had made her comment. As Jean Paul Murat was a very religious man, it was understandable Valencia didn't want her past life mentioned.

Helen, true to form, didn't help matters, "Well, it's just I kind of wondered if he preferred being whipped on the back, the ass, or—"

"That was years ago," Valencia screamed. "Besides, what kind of morals do you have trying to break up Lord Ruud van Willems' marriage?"

Renée knew fighting words when she heard them, as Helen did evidently.

Helen got up, "Ruud doesn't love his wife, he loves me, and if she weren't threatening him with the worst divorce ever—"

Renée got up before things got worse, "Alright, I think we've heard enough. Valencia, I'm sure you'll make Captain Murat a very happy man. I think it's best if one of you two leaves and lets things calm down."

"If you think I'm moving my ass for a mere captain," Helen growled, "you can keep dreaming."

"Fine," Valencia spat. "I've got to go find Jean anyways. He's been off somewhere this entire morning."

Valencia, looking pissed, walked off.

Helen turned to Renée when Valencia was out of earshot, "You just had to stick up for your subordinate, didn't you oh braided one?"

"I'm saving you from having our Army Inspector General making a big deal of this to Miria," Renée answered, crossing her arms.

Helen's referring to her as "braided one" was understandable, as Renée 's hair was braided into numerous rows. The sarcasm Helen had added was probably, in Renée 's opinion, due to Helen's jealousy of her looks. Whatever Helen had Renée had more of: a bigger butt, a much bigger chest, wider hips, more voluptuous, larger muscles, and even slightly longer legs.

Curly-haired Nadia interjected, "Well, take a look, Lady Natalie is finally coming."

Renée turned, as did all the others. Walking up the cobblestone path between lines of poplar trees was a petite girl in a fancy blue-and-white dress. She had her long, curly blond hair parted into two long bangs. At the back of her head she'd gathered her hair into a large ponytail. The girl had silver eyes and a petite build.

Helen smiled and interrupted the girl's staring at them, ""Yo little lady, where's your bad-smelling cat?"

"He's getting a bath," Natalie replied. "What are the five of you doing at mom's house when she's back in Rabona? If you wanted to see my dad, he's talking to an architect in Rabona before the big Council of Lords meeting."

Helen cheekily smiled while wrapping an arm around the more petite Natalie, "We came to see you little one. Come on, buck up, aren't you a little happy to see your aunts?"

Natalie smiled, "Well, you're not technically my aunts."

Helen grabbed Natalie's head and rubbed it as a joke.

"That's what you get for being a smart-ass," Helen laughed as Natalie pulled out of the headlock.

Natalie asked, "So why are you actually here?"

Renée exchanged a knowing glance with the shorter-haired Helen.

"The six of us, Helen, Tabitha, Nadia, Alexandra, Matilda and me," Renée began, "wanted you to join our group."

Natalie seemed incredulous, "For what?"

The tall Matilda sighed, "It's a secret group Natalie. We can't talk about it out here in the sunny outdoors. Someone might overhear our reason for meeting."

Natalie squealed, "Oh sweet, I like these sorts of things. What kind of—"

Renée cut off Natalie by covering her mouth, "If you go talking that loudly everyone will be on to us. Come on, we'll go back to your bedroom…"

* * *

"Alright, alright," Renée said, hammering her gavel against a desk. "I call the first meeting of the Monarchist League to order."

Helen snickered, "What are you doing, trying to be a judge?"

"Oh grow up Helen," Renée shouted back.

Renée was seated behind a small desk, to either side of which were seated Tabitha, Matilda, Natalie, Alexandra, Helen and Nadia. They were seated together in a loose circle at their own small desks. Above them, providing extra light was a simple silver chandelier with four burning candles. A quartet of arched windows also lit the room, shining light upon Natalie's large canopy bed, her four massive dressers, a full-body mirror, and the white-carpeted floor.

Renée , being the leader of the secret group, had set up the room hours previously. There was just enough room to bring in some desks Miria had stored downstairs. The group had agreed to meet in secret, even from Miria, as they had a rather dangerous goal.

"I would like to remind everyone that our lives will be in danger if a word of our activities is breathed to anyone else," Renée stated, glancing around the group.

Natalie raised her hand and spoke up, "Uh Renée , what exactly is the Monarchist League supposed to be for?"

"We are meeting to advocate that the Dominion of Toulouse be made a kingdom," Matilda answered, sounding very serious. "We're starting small, and eventually we'll expand and make our demands heard."

Clueless Natalie asked, "But who would be king and queen?"

The whole room was swathed in knowing smiles.

"I don't like it when you guys act like this," Natalie huffed. "Come on, if you wanted me to join then I should know who you want as the monarchs."

Tabitha spoke up, "There's only one claymore I could ever imagine as monarch."

Natalie eyes grew wide, "Mom?"

Helen laughed, "You big clod Natalie, who else do you think is worthy of being queen?"

Natalie stammered, "But why?"

Renée sighed, "Why not? I'm tired of being ordered around by callous bastards, both lords and priests. The priests didn't care about having a competent military, and the Council of Lords cares nothing for anyone but the rich. The only person I believe that can rule justly, fairly and compassionately is your mother."

Natalie kept prodding, "But won't the Council of Lords not like mom as queen? Why would they—"

"They would never agree to Miria becoming queen, and I think even you know that Natalie," pigtailed Alexandra interrupted. "I don't think even Miria would completely want to become Queen of Toulouse, but we have to make her accept the position."

"Well mom would make a great queen," Natalie agreed, "but how would we force her to become queen?"

"The only way the Countess would ever agree to become queen is by popular demand of the people," Matilda stated. "Which is why we've formed this group; eventually we'll spread in secret and our members will spread enough pro-Miria influence to win over society."

Renée interjected, "The Council of Lords would never agree to losing power to a monarch, which is why we're meeting in secret. They could charge us with treason if they find out. You must promise you will NEVER tell anyone about this group Natalie."

"Ok," Natalie stammered, looking shocked and confused.

"As President of the Monarchist League," Renée said, gaveling for silence, "I call this meeting to order. The first order of business is expansion of our group. Secretary Nadia Tierra, have you had any luck in secretly establishing a branch in Pieta?"

Nadia stood up, smiling, "I had amazing luck. Half of Pieta was willing to join our group."

"I object," Tabitha said. "If we get too inclusive the Council of Lords can't help but find out about us!"

"But this is a popular movement," Matilda pointed out. "So long as we don't have anything directly identifying the central group, they can't stop us. You didn't go around asking people yourself, right Nadia?"

Nadia shook her head, "Of course I didn't do that. My husband Raul went out instead and tells me a lot of people in Pieta really liked the idea."

"That's a hell of a risk," Alexandra commented. "If someone wanted to trace back to our group, he's not very far from the truth."

"Raul would never get captured," Nadia huffed.

Natalie spoke up, "But what if the Council of Lords found out about all of us before the people demanded mom become queen? I don't know if mom would side with us."

The entire room went silent as Natalie's words sunk in.

Renée recovered first, "Then we just have to hope she would. But I want to make one thing absolutely clear Natalie."

Natalie questioned, "Which is?"

Renée ordered, "You cannot, under any circumstances, tell your mother we want her to be queen."

* * *

"Sister Latea, is something wrong?"

Galatea turned at hearing her nickname to find the small, blurry silhouette of a child not far away. Her milky white eyes might have been injured by fire, but her innate claymore nature meant they had partially healed despite her best efforts. Thus she was not totally blind, although she couldn't see colors or really anything beyond twenty feet away.

"I'll be alright Jean," she assured the boy.

Jean exclaimed, "Did something happen to your hair?"

"I just had it cut," Latea said, lying despite knowing it was a cardinal sin. "When it grows out you'll see it again. Now run along back home, I'm sure your mother is waiting."

The boy ran off onto Rabona's cobblestone streets as Galatea sighed. She walked back to the side door of the Teresian Cathedral and opened it. She closed the door and slumped against it in regret. She loved children more than anything, and the church had been so generous in allowing her to stay and providing for them. It was something someone rich like Countess Miria would never understand. Miria would never have understood why, but Galatea knew the moment the Council of Lords seized power the poor were in mortal danger.

Thus she'd been willing to kill Miria, and had even attempted to do so. However Miria was too much, and Galatea had found herself knocked out and locked up. Thankfully the opportunistic Miria was also forgiving, and Galatea had found her multi-year sentence ended on Miria's recommendation. Perhaps she had misunderstood Miria's nature.

Miria she could deal with, Claire on the other hand was a different story. Galatea had wooed Claire's husband, Raki de Lautrec, in the immediate aftermath of victory over the Organization. He'd been single at that time, and more than willing to be bedded by her. Claire had "caught" them in the act, which had ended their relationship. Raki had been taken in by Claire's domineering personality and heretical ways.

It was a terrible waste in Galatea's opinion, as a good man had been ruined by a heretic. As Claire taunted her and strengthened in her heretical ways, Galatea determined she would set an example in opposition. She learned the holy book from first to last by heart, she abided by its rules, and she learned how fulfilling it was to live purely religious life.

Claire had left only a few months after the relationship with Raki had ended. Now, with Miria's victory at Kerouac Gorge, Claire had come back like a strutting heroine. It made Galatea so sickened she hadn't eaten the first week they got back. Claire made matters worse by mentioning her twins every moment Galatea was in earshot. It was heart-breaking to Galatea, as unbeknownst to Claire it struck a raw nerve. Galatea had conceived with Raki's "aid", but in her distress at his leaving Rabona she had miscarried. It was a secret only her fellow nuns knew.

It was not, as Galatea reflected, a cardinal sin for a nun to conceive. Unlike what many thought, there was nothing in the holy book that forbade a nun having a sexual relationship with an unmarried man. Galatea had found Raki tolerable company, although the real reason she'd bedded him was her intense desire to have her own child. She'd fully intended to wed him if she'd given birth, as was recommended in the holy book. It wouldn't have been a marriage of love, but in time perhaps it might have become one.

Instead Galatea had miscarried as he left, and to her eternal regret, she found her eyes too damaged to even cry tears of regret.

Which was why she was now slumped against a door, sighing.

A scream rang out within the cathedral, and Galatea jumped to her feet. She rushed forwards as fast as she dared to the main hall of the cathedral. She heard a number of footsteps to her left, so she turned to look. Unfortunately her eyes could not see who it was, the distance being too great to make out anything.

Galatea found herself knocked over suddenly, a woman's body falling atop her. Galatea pushed the woman off as quickly as she could.

"Oh my god, I'm sorry Sister Latea," Sister Lucia cried.

Galatea recognized Lucia's voice instantly; Lucia was one of the youngest nuns in the Teresian Cathedral. She was Galatea's liaison with Bishop Vincent, passing along valuable information about the Holy Council since Galatea had been kicked off it.

Galatea picked up a whiff of something and sniffed, "What's going on Sister Lucia? Why can I smell someone's blood on you?"

"It's Bishop Vincent," Lucia cried, "he's in mortal danger! He's bleeding in the Council Room and—"

Galatea rushed past Lucia, weaving her way through the underground passageways to the Council Room. She could smell the blood before she even opened the door. She ripped the door off its hinges. She could hear heavy breathing, and she noticed someone on the floor. She gasped as she rushed to their side; it was the bald, middle-aged Bishop Vincent, leader of the Rabona Orthodox Church.

"Bishop Vincent," Galatea said, holding his hand, "where are you hurt?"

"It's too late for that," Bishop Vincent coughed, blood splattering across Galatea's face.

Galatea ignored this and found his chest was badly bloodied, a number of grievous wounds in his shoulder bleeding badly. Lucia rushed to Galatea's side with bandages, and they quickly stripped Bishop Vincent's top off and began wrapping his wounds.

"I said it's too late," he said, coughing up more blood.

Galatea ignored this and kept wrapping his wounds.

Galatea questioned, "Who did this to you?"

Vincent's breathing was barely there anymore, and he hadn't seemed to have heard her.

Galatea pressed her inquiry, "Bishop Vincent, who stabbed you?"

"I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen to reason," Bishop Vincent gasped. "He kept going on about how he's been called by God to…"

"Bishop Vincent, who was it that did this?"

Vincent wrist was cold, his pulse waning even as she felt it.

He managed one last word, "Ma…Mazarin."

He slumped a few seconds later, his pulse disappearing. Lucia began crying as Vincent's body died, his life slipping away in their hands.

"May God bless your soul on its way to heaven," Galatea whispered.

* * *

Miria walked into the meeting room for the Council of Lords knowing things were grim. The world's greatest power, the Grand Alliance, had made an ultimatum. The Council of Lords had scheduled the grand meeting to determine how to respond. It was a meeting which every military officer of high rank had to attend.

Miria settled into a seat that afforded her a view of the Teresian Cathedral through the room's massive, wall-length set of arched windows. A magnificent, white tablecloth-covered, round table sat at the gaudy, enormous room's center. All around, in a bowl seating pattern, were innumerable fine chairs to hold all the event's other attendees. The chairs were almost all filled, with Miria seated in the midst of her highest ranked subordinates.

Colonel Renée , wearing chain-mail and gold-gilded pauldrons, leaned over from the left.

"What's keeping them so long? That damn Rundstedt is making me antsy," Renée said.

Miria noticed the goateed, finely dressed Rundstedt was seated opposite them, quietly conferring with his "assistant", Rubel Louvre. The sunglass and hat-wearing Rubel had been a spy in the Organization, and had helped to lead to its downfall. He was also, in the minds of many claymores, never to be trusted. He had, after all, tried to arrange the deaths of Miria and her partially-awakened comrades on several occasions in the past.

The sun was just setting as the gray-bearded, aging Lord Mayor Zaehringen walked into the room. He was followed by Miria's husband, the attractive, ponytailed Count Cid Malaga. Others followed, although most Miria didn't know very well. Only two were readily familiar to her: the dashing Lord Ruud van Willems, and the elder Lord Staufen. The men sat down around the table as Zaehringen gaveled the meeting into order.

Zaehringen stuck out, as he was tall, wore a grand dark blue cape and a fine white outfit, and had his black hat topped by a huge plume of white feathers.

"My fellow Lords, we are gathered here because of a demand I'm sure each of you has heard about," Zaehringen stated. "The Grand Alliance, the world's greatest power, has demanded we join within three years or face armed invasion."

"I would like to hear the reasoning as to why our young state deserves such treatment," the hawk-nosed van Willems stated.

Ruud van Willems was staring straight at the Grand Alliance emissary, Duke von Rundstedt. Rundstedt merely stroked his goatee and whispered something to Rubel.

Zaehringen backed up Willems' objections, "Perhaps the esteemed ambassador of the Grand Alliance would care to answer Lord van Willems' question."

The goateed Rundstedt, dressed in a similar manner to Zaehringen, only in tones of white and red, got up. Miria noticed he had unusual silver-buckle shoes which clicked upon the hardwood floor as he walked forward to a dais. Rundstedt reached the dais before the rounded table and set down a clutch of papers.

"It is obvious that your lordships are upset with the demands of the Grand Alliance," Rundstedt stated. "I want you to understand one thing above all others: we need the added strength of the Dominion of Toulouse. When you join, your leadership will get a say on alliance foreign and military policy. By joining the Grand Alliance, you will be resisting the most dangerous and evil genius this world has yet seen."

A number of the lords scoffed in disbelief at this claim, and Helen rolled her eyes at Miria upon hearing the claim.

"I am speaking of course about Katarzyna Romanowa," Rundstedt continued, trying his best to ignore the disbelief. "We too once regarded her like you do now. After all, she used to be a mere silver-eyed captain."

The audience seemed to quiet down, a few more individuals paying attention.

"Katarzyna started out using dastardly tactics against our alliance. She starved Dragonkin to death by hitting supply lines, she purposely targeted officers in the regular army to sow confusion, and she has refused to abide by any rules of chivalry. Captain Romanowa you see did not believe in the honorable ways of war, but those of total war," Rundstedt began.

Miria noticed the audience's attention was almost rapt now, and Rundstedt seemed to know he had their attention.

Rundstedt kept reading from his notes, "Romanowa was eventually promoted to Colonel and began her true history as a commander."

Miria began feeling a little uncomfortable. Like Katarzyna, she too had once been a mere 'silver-eyed captain'. She had also become a colonel and helped to overthrow the traditional order of power by supporting a coup against the church. However, she felt better when she realized that, unlike Katarzyna, she hadn't seized total power or resorted to Katarzyna's tactics.

Rundstedt continued his lecture, "She systematically killed off the civilian and military personnel supplying a major army with food, weapons and supplies. When faced with a superior force later, she did not even offer battle. Instead she scorched the earth, killing anything and burning everything in our path. Her will to win is so great she would rather annihilate her own countryside than face us honorably in battle."

"I hate to sympathize with such tactics," Miria spoke up, "but she won, didn't she? If you can't adjust your tactics to fight her, then why should we join the Grand Alliance?"

Rundstedt looked at Miria with a look that suggested a hidden hatred of her kind.

"She didn't win that time," Rundstedt clarified. "We simply could not continue the fight and turned our armies to more productive fronts."

Helen, seated to Miria's right, spoke up, "So you're saying this witch still won?"

Rundstedt snapped, "She didn't win! Romanowa used the most bastardly, nefarious tactics imaginable to make engagement impossible. She has no honor, no morals, and no sense of decency. It was shortly after that when she purposely began attacking the most inexperienced, youngest Dragonkin with her forces."

Major General "Galk" Galacon commented, "I'll admit that doesn't sound very chivalrous, but you have done nothing but complain about her. What I want to know is what our incentives are to join your side. Why should we join the losing side?"

Galk, seated to Miria's right, was a well-built man, and had brown-blond hair and a scar upon the right side of his face. He was wearing plate armor and seemed intent on pressing Rundstedt.

"We are far from the losing side in this conflict," Rundstedt countered. "The Grand Alliance possesses far greater reserves of manpower than the Romanow Empire. We also are a side governed by morals, by chivalry, by age-old manners of decency. Would you rather throw your lot in with a government willing to do anything, regardless of morals, to win?"

Lord Mayor Zaehringen interjected, "We will be the judges of her government's morals, not you, Lord Ambassador."

Miria noticed Renée stiffening next to her and was about to ask why when Rundstedt got to the core of his message, "Katarzyna Romanowa eventually rose to prominence, and for her victories was promoted to Marshal. Her high command was formed of a council like this one."

The lords began paying more attention at this while Rundstedt continued, "Katarzyna decided they were of no use to her, so she formed a pact with their bodyguards. In the course of ten minutes, she slaughtered them like dogs and seized absolute power. Since that day, that madwoman has been fully unleashed upon the world. Thankfully for the world, her navy was torn apart by the coup's chaos. One of the few things keeping her from world domination is our navy, and with your help we can finally beat her aggression back."

There was a great deal of murmuring amongst the lords now, and Miria could tell Rundstedt's words had at least mollified some of the opposition.

An aide rushed to Zaehringen's side and whispered something in his ear. Zaehringen's lips pursed and he made a waving motion before the aide rushed back out of the room.

Rundstedt finished, "I would urge your lordships to oppose this horrible tyrant before—"

"I think I've heard just about enough," an accented voice interjected.

Rundstedt turned, as did everyone else but Zaehringen, who seemed to be expecting the new arrivals. A group of five individuals had appeared in the Lord Mayor Residence's meeting room's entranceway. Miria immediately recognized the long locks and face of the Organization's ex-No. 3, Audrey. Audrey was wearing thick black robes with yellow sash, and seemed unusually thick in the middle. Miria's jaw hung open as she looked to Audrey's left.

A male claymore was standing there dressed in dark gray pants, a black tunic, gold-colored belt, and brown boots. His face had a strong chin, symmetrical features, and thick blond bangs over his forehead. He was accompanied by three other male claymores similarly dressed, one of them with remarkable long hair. Every single female claymore in the room seemed shocked silent, although many others were as well.

"Apologies on not arriving here earlier," the male warrior said. "I am Count Andrei Tuluzy of the Romanow Empire, and I appreciate the Council allowing us to enter into this crucial meeting," the lead male claymore said.

He had a curious foreign accent to Miria's ears, and she suddenly realized he was holding hands with Audrey, whose middle looked suspiciously like a baby bump. Miria noticed that the grin on Rundstedt's face had vanished the moment Andrei had interrupted.

"This lovely lady is my wife, Countess Audrey Tuluzy," Andrei beamed. "We are here on behalf of Empress Katarzyna Romanowa, and to counter this blatant slandering of the empress' reputation. We're currently expecting a baby, so I would not have made the journey with her but for the empress' personal request."

"I never said anything incorrect about that barbarian," Rundstedt growled.

"Lord Mayor Zaehringen, if it's not too late, the Romanow Empire would like to make a counter-offer to that given by the Grand Alliance," Andrei declared, ignoring Rundstedt.

"By all means Count Tuluzy," Zaehringen said, recovering his voice as he spoke.

Andrei walked up to the dais as Rundstedt reluctantly gave way and walked back to his seat besides Rubel. Andrei, in Miria's estimation, was roughly Galatea's height, and had a stronger build than most female claymores.

"Honorable lords, citizens of Toulouse, Her Supreme Imperial Majesty has invested in me the power to make a treaty as I see fit with your country," Andrei explained. "To begin, I'll start with our initial offer. In exchange for free trade rights with your country, I can personally guarantee we will respect your neutrality and guarantee you protection from any cowardly aggression from the Grand Alliance."

The lords, including Miria's husband Cid, began murmuring in approving tones as Rundstedt stood up in objection.

"You cannot believe these lies! That tyrant is the most dangerous, and aggressive—"

Andrei interrupted, "What Duke von Rundstedt won't tell you, is that Empress Katarzyna has never invaded the Grand Alliance since rising to power. In fact, when we sent emissaries to discuss peace terms, the Grand Alliance sent their decapitated heads back to the empress."

"That is a blatant lie," Rundstedt thundered.

Andrei smiled in disbelief, "I ask your Lordships, who would you trust, the people who have threatened you with coercion or those who respect your rights?"

Miria could tell Rundstedt was in trouble, as Rubel was shaking his head.

The elder Lord Staufen asked, "What about the allegations made by Duke von Rundstedt regarding barbaric and ruthless tactics employed by the empress?"

"Your lordships may not be aware, but the sole aggressor during most of the past hundred years has been the Grand Alliance," Andrei replied. "Their Dragonkin pillage their way through territory, eating cows, horses, and on rare occasion, people. The empress made the decision that killing off the livestock and farms in a border area was a tolerable price to pay to stop a large group of Dragonkin. She did not kill our people, although I imagine that fact went unmentioned," Andrei remarked, directing a pointed stare at Rundstedt.

Rundstedt shot back, "Perhaps you'd like to explain to the Council how your beloved empress killed not just the High Command but also how she 'lovingly' executed their children as well?"

Andrei's smile vanished, "Perhaps you've forgotten to mention that it was that same High Command that ordered the indiscriminate use of Awakened beings? Or that it was the Alliance of Nations' High Command who backed the Organization? The Cesarzowa was bringing a group of uncommonly criminal individuals to justice. How many people here would regret the Organization's financers being executed for their crimes?"

"I imagine we could hear you two emissaries quarrel all day," Lord Mayor Zaehringen said, cutting off Rundstedt's chance to make a rebuttal. "The Council of Lords will be holding a closed door meeting to formulate an initial response to what has been said here today."

It was a dismissal, and Andrei and Rundstedt recognized it, each making a quick bow.

"Her Supreme Imperial Majesty's government awaits your response and wishes to establish diplomatic relations within the week," Andrei said.

"The Grand Alliance expects and hopes you'll make the right choice," Rundstedt added.

Lord Mayor Zaehringen stood up, "Only those of Colonel rank or higher may remain for—"

Commander Nina came running in, breathless, her yoki unsettled, "Our forces have come under attack north of Rabona! I am requesting immediate reinforcements!"

Zaehringen seemed shocked, "Who in the world would dare attack us?"


	3. Chapter 2: The Inquisition Unleashed

**Chapter 2: ****The Inquisition Unleashed**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**The situation in Toulouse in 3 A.L.E. (After Liberation Era) was incredibly tense. The Dominion of Toulouse, the island's primary power, had been contacted by the world's two superpowers, the Grand Alliance and the rising Romanow Empire. The Dominion's leader, Lord Mayor Zaehringen, knew that to enter the world war on either side meant a certain invasion by the other superpower. Unfortunately for Zaehringen, the Grand Alliance was not offering to allow the Dominion to remain neutral. The island of Toulouse's location and natural resources made it a great location for a naval base, one the Grand Alliance thought of global importance.**

**The Romanow Empire lacked the overwhelming naval power of its predecessor, the Alliance of Nations. When Katarzyna Romanowa's coup occurred, the navy was the least loyal of the armed forces to the new empress. Nearly a third of the navy was lost to internal fighting, as the empress' supporters tried to take command of the navy and Alliance loyalists resisted them. Another portion defected to the Kingdom of Breton rather than their hated enemies, the Grand Alliance. By the time Empress Katarzyna secured Praha seven months into her reign, only half of the old navy was left.**

**Despite this, it was still formidable, and with the empress' renewed backing, gaining strength. One of her fleets caught a Bretonese fleet in Konstanz Bay off the island of Toulouse. There they inflicted a crushing defeat on their former comrades and awoke the Grand Alliance to the deadly reach of the Romanow Empire. When the Grand Alliance found it could not defeat the Imperial Romanow Navy, it turned to the isle of Toulouse as the key to upsetting the balance of power on the high seas.**

**The Romanow Empire for its part wished to stop this plot, so the empress sent a delegation to the island to secure its neutrality. Her lead ambassador was the Count Andrei Tuluzy, who conveniently enough brought his wife. Countess Audrey Tuluzy was an ex-Organization claymore, who besides being familiar with the island's power brokers knew where the Organization's secret archives might be. These the empress wanted, although the Dominion of Toulouse's commanding officer, Phantom Miria, was making certain the sites in question were closely watched.**

**Unfortunately for all concerned, an underlying current of resentment on the island threatened to wreck everyone's plans. When the Council of Lords held a meeting with all of the Dominion's highest-ranking officers present, those who resented the island's change in political order had their chance. They attacked during the meeting at a most crucial point…**

* * *

The Rabona Orthodox Church had never been so humiliated in its multi-century history. Since the church's founding 605 years before the island's liberation from outside rule, it had ruled Rabona. Nothing had interrupted this rule; not the island's civil war a century prior, not the presence of Yoma and the Organization, nor the political upheavals resulting from the Organization's overthrow.

Then, two years following the destruction of the ungodly Organization, Rabona had been besieged by forces from Lautrec. To beat them off, the church had made a devilish deal with silver-eyed witches. They were the horrific hybrid creations of the dastardly Organization; silver-eyed witches were one part human and one part demon. Bishop Vincent had made the deadly mistake of trusting the witches; they instead sided with the aristocrats and merchant tycoons of Rabona.

In the space of a week, the Rabona Orthodox Church had lost all political power. First the aristocratic and merchant-led Council of Lords led a revolt against church for its resistance to violating the word of God. When the Holy Council had appealed to the Holy Guards, who were technically under the Holy Council and Bishop's direct command, they were betrayed. The Holy Guards' commander, then-Colonel Phantom Miria, hadn't lifted a finger to help and instead actively prevented the Holy Council's messengers from reaching her army's camp.

Thus it was that the Holy Council lost control of its own army; it had been betrayed from within by silver-eyed demons and the town's wealthiest citizens. Phantom Miria may have spectacularly beaten King Charles' armies within two weeks, but it mattered little. What mattered to Father Mazarin was that the church was stripped of all power and god's laws had been usurped by the corruption of money and silver-eyed demons.

"Well, that's only going to last for so long," he remarked to himself smugly.

Father Mazarin was a partially bald, middle-aged man. He was physically unremarkable, his poor vision often causing him to squint, and wore the simple whites robes of a priest. He had been unmatched in inspiring his congregations with his fervent speeches. This had speeded his rise to a position on the six-person Holy Council, the ruling government in Rabona for the past six centuries. A body, which, now thanks to his "elimination" of all of its other male members, no longer existed.

He was standing just outside a small riverside town, Orleans, which was north of Rabona. It occupied a crucial point on the Toulouse River between the capital city of the Dominion of Toulouse and the northern lands. These lands were increasing in wealth and population as mining grew in the mountains on its border. The river was the major artery of trade between Rabona and the Northern Lands of Alphonse, and would, with his efforts today, suffer a fatal clog.

Mazarin walked up to a wooden stage that had been set up by his devoted priestly followers. He was standing just outside the pitiful wooden town gates with some half dozen priests in white to either side of the elevated stage. Before the stage were standing hundreds of townspeople and farmers, men and women both. They had come to hear of the great holy quest he was about to tell them about. However first he needed to connect to their innermost fears, a task made tougher by the sunny weather.

"Most devoted and faithful followers of the Orthodox faith," Mazarin said, throwing his arms in dramatic fashion, "it is indeed wonderful to see so many follow the true teachings of the church. But you're not here to hear me talk of platitudes. Your church is in danger on all sides. We have all seen it, we have all felt it, and we all know of it. Less than a year ago we all saw the church of God disgraced before his very eyes. Some of you may wonder how this could happen…"

A man in the crowd shouted, "How could God let this happen to our church?"

A woman cried, "Why has the rule of God been ended?"

"I too wondered the same thing," Mazarin answered. "It is only now, looking back, that I recognize the handiwork of demons and devils. Their horrible deeds, however, are not things that devoted children of God like you should hear!"

"We would hear it," a man shouted.

A woman in the crowd shouted, "How else can we serve God but thwart these demons?"

Soon the few cries became deafening, the faithful demanding that he tell them the story.

Mazarin knew he had them where he wanted, "Very well my children, if you must hear of evil and wicked deeds, I suppose I can limit their unkind influences upon you. I will begin this story from a time we all know so well: the church's beginning over six centuries ago!"

An expectant hush fell over the faithful as he let the silence add to the tension.

"Over six centuries ago, a pair of beautiful girls was sacrificed by the heathen lords of old. They had sacrificed themselves to protect the lives of everyone they held dear. The heathens hanged the girls, but yet they were not satisfied in their defiling of such purity. One of the lords decided he would burn their bodies for sport. Just as he touched the torch to the girls' dresses, he found they did not burn. When he reached to touch their skin, their eyes opened!"

"They were angels!"

It was a unanimous cry from the crowd, who knew the tale only too well.

"The heathen lords were struck down from where they stood by God, who at last revealed to all the true way," Mazarin continued, his voice rising. "The angels of God walked amongst the people of this great land for twelve long years. They taught us the true path to salvation, the true teachings of God, and the true faith. One day the angels Teresa and Claire ascended to heaven together, and behind them they left a book!"

"The holy book of God!" the crowd cried together.

Mazarin dramatically unveiled a white and gold-embroidered version of the holy book before the crowd's very eyes. A hush fell upon them as he held it aloft.

"The first believers founded the rock of God, the Rabona Orthodox Church. For four and a half centuries they spread the true word of the one God to each and every corner of this island. This island was ruled as God intended, but then a terrible menace was unleashed amongst the people."

A number of men shouted, "It was the work of heretics!"

"No!" Mazarin shouted, stunning the crowd into silence. "Those people, those heretics, were led astray by a far greater foe. In the beginning of the world, there was one angel who fell from grace. He spread his evil influence onto this island and corrupted many of the people. I once thought he had been defeated, but when I look back now at what has happened; I see his evil influence everywhere!"

Several women cried out, "No, tell us it isn't so!"

"The fallen angel, God's enemy here on this world, corrupted a group of men we knew as the Organization," Mazarin explained. "A century ago these men came here, seeking a way to fight the fallen angel's demons, the Yoma, in order to give them power. They recruited wayward sisters of our faith and made them a bargain. They would give the sisters eternal youth and great strength in exchange for them implanting the demons' flesh into them. Then they would fight the fallen angel's demons on the Organization's behalf."

Several women in the crowd shouted, "The Organization was foolish to trust them!"

Mazarin made a shushing motion with his arms and the crowd fell silent, "For over a century, the fallen angel's demons and the Organization's silver-eyed witches made battle. In our foolishness, we began to relate to them as people, nicknaming them the 'claymores'. But the whole time, behind it all, the fallen angel worked his evil influences upon his half-children."

The crowd fell totally silent, which Mazarin knew was probably because they knew of the terrible and twisted tale that was to come.

"The fallen angel corrupted a particularly strong witch, a claymore of whom we all know: Phantom Miria," Mazarin said, letting her name linger in the air.

A number of curses came through the crowd, the resentment of the usurper of the church's rule very evident.

"Down with the she-devil!"

"Kill the usurper!"

"Burn the witches!"

"How could God allow this to happen?"

Mazarin waved his arms for silence as the shouts and threats against Miria's life piled up, "My children, I believe god is testing us in the great battle against the fallen angel. He corrupted Phantom Miria, who persuaded many comrades to battle the Organization. When they triumphed against their former masters, the half-children of the fallen angel were freed from their shackles."

Someone shouted, "But why did the church ally itself with them?"

"The church was confronted by a dastardly warlord who called himself King Charles," Mazarin hissed. "It was all part of the fallen angel's plans. He used the threat of King Charles to force Bishop Vincent to ask the fallen angel's half-children for aid. Bishop Vincent was so focused on the threat of Charles he never saw the plot against his own church."

Mazarin began to cry, letting the tears fall, knowing it could only push the crowd further down the path he wanted them to travel.

"At first we thought we had won, but we were deceived. King Charles' forces returned six months after the witches had helped fight off his first siege. Phantom Miria and the merchants in the Council of Lords demanded that we use the most ungodly methods to destroy King Charles' army. When Bishop Vincent refused in God's name, we…"

The crowd knew only too well what happened, a number of women sobbing.

"We were betrayed, just like the fallen angel intended," Mazarin cried. "God's rule on this island was overthrown in a night. The church, which had ruled our holy city for over six centuries, was stripped of all power by the Council of Lords minions and the complicit support of Phantom Miria's half-demons!"

Mazarin held up the holy book, "During the battle of Kerouac Gorge, a long-prophesied tale came true. The angels Teresa and Claire warned us of the coming of the fallen angel's daughter on this world. Phantom Miria was seen growing black-and-white wings during the battle… the wings of a fallen half-angel!"

There was complete shock and silence in the crowd now.

Mazarin began more quietly, increasing his volume with time, "After the battle a horrible discovery was made. It seems the half-demons are breeding and producing children of their own. The fallen angel is making his move to challenge God on this world, and we must act to stop him! His children must be killed and destroyed before it is too late!"

Shouts of approval rang out as Mazarin held his arms out to accept their applause.

"My children, God is calling on us to put an end to the fallen angel's kind, restore the rule of the church to this island, and bring virtue back to the world. God has called us to launch the most holy of quests; he has called upon me, you, and every one of his faithful to launch the Toulousan Inquisition!"

"For God!"

"We'll die for our God!"

"Tell us what to do Father Mazarin!"

Mazarin held up a hand for silence, smiling, knowing they were ready, "My children, God's quest begins here in Orleans. Our restoration of god's rule begins here today! Join me, and we will take the garrison and begin our holy quest!"

The priests began throwing out pitchforks, swords, spears, wooden shields, bows, and quivers of arrows to those in the crowd. They eagerly grabbed the weapons, and despite being dressed as mere peasants, farmers, and housewives, they would more than suffice.

Mazarin grabbed a sword and raised it high, "Now follow me to the garrison!"

The crowd, numbering almost a thousand, rallied around him and charged into the dense river town. There were no guards at the gate, which was typical. They charged up the streets past surprised merchants, who Mazarin directed the crowd to shackle. They at last reached the enclosed brick bridge that led to a small island fortress in the river.

A few Toulousan archers shot off arrows as the mob approached, a pair of peasants being felled next to Mazarin.

"Onwards children of God," Mazarin shouted, holding aloft the angel-winged flag of the Rabona Orthodox Church. "Our God needs all his faithful to fight!"

They reached the fortified wooden door guarding the town's bridge at the edge of the river. With the help of several torches, they burned the door, and several of the men smashed in the smoldering embers. The crowd surged down the bridge, crushing the few dozen soldiers in their way. Within an hour, the river fortress of Orleans was in the Inquisition's hands.

* * *

_It started like the dream Miria had had shortly before the Battle of Kerouac Gorge. She found herself in a sea of endless mist. She whipped around, fearing there would be someone behind her in the dream. A light appeared abruptly in the gray mists, and Miria decided to walk towards it. _

_She walked forward, glanced down and found she was wearing her finest armor. She was wearing plate armor now over her chest, back and shoulders in the form of a cuirass. Atop her shoulders was a pair of gold-gilded pauldrons, while she wore gold-gilded gauntlets to cover her hands. Gold-rimmed greaves covered her lower legs and knees, while a gold-rimmed steel helmet topped with a plume of white feathers was in her hands. _

_She put the helmet on, even though she knew it was a dream. She reached the light; it was, just like previous, a lantern mounted atop a black iron post. Below it was plush grass that for whatever reason, the mists did not cover. _

"_Bravo Countess," a sinister female voice said. "You escaped the gruesome end of your family and kept your dream alive." _

_Miria whipped around, drawing her sword. Standing hardly ten feet away was the visage of Miria's former archenemy, the long-deceased No. 4, Ophelia. Ophelia was wearing an Organization uniform, standing firm and not drawing her claymore. Ophelia snickered and touched her white-haired ponytail with a flick of her hand. _

"_What's the matter Countess Miria," Ophelia sneered, "why the long face?" _

"_You…"_

"_You forget, Miria, that deep down I'm you," Ophelia laughed. "I am nothing but a figment of your mind, of your fears…and of your nightmares." _

_Miria asked the visage, "Why am I here again?" _

"_I don't know, but perhaps it has to do with your ambition," Ophelia chuckled. _

_Miria mouthed, "My ambition?" _

"_Don't play innocent with me, Miria," Ophelia said, and then the visage suddenly transformed. _

_In Ophelia's place was an identical twin of Miria in battle armor, only Miria knew by experience this image was composed of her darkest nature. _

"_Thanks to your improbable victory over King Charles," her evil twin stated, "your destined fate is still in reach. Would you like to see it?" _

_Miria reached out a hand and then retracted it. Her evil twin visage laughed. _

"_I have it right here," the twin said, unveiling a blue and gold-ribbon box. _

_Miria hesitated to come closer but the evil twin opened the top of the box. Coming out of the box was a blazing light, rendering whatever was inside invisible because of the blinding light. Miria walked closer and touched the box's edge. _

"_You'll have to reach inside to see it," her 'twin' said. _

_Miria hesitated a moment, and then reached inside. There came a blinding flash, at which Miria shielded her eyes. _

"_Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I'll have them put the window back," a male voice said. _

_Miria blinked her eyes open to find herself in the Teresian Cathedral's sandstone interior. A ray of brilliant sunlight far above was blazing into her eyes until a worker on the scaffolding high above placed a black drape over the opening. _

_She blinked her eyes open again to find Cid seated beside her in gorgeous blue and gold robes. He was wearing a golden crown atop his head. Miria looked back to find Natalie and Renée similarly dressed, each wearing smaller and more effeminate crowns. Miria looked down at her own robes, which seemed grandest of all. _

"_Your Majesty," a courtier said, dressed in a fine white and red jacket, "I apologize for the wait, but your crown has just arrived." _

"_Merci," Miria found herself saying. _

_The cathedral's center featured a rich red carpet lining it all the way to the grand main doors hundreds of yards distant. Heavenly light shined down from the cathedral's stained glass windows. A courtier walked forward stiffly, holding a black satin pillow in both arms with care. Atop the pillow was a magnificent, diamond-festooned golden crown. _

_Miria stood up to her full height to watch her crown approach. Two lines of guards in plate armor, blue and gold-embroidered cloaks, and wielding large halberds stood at attention. To either side of the central aisle were crowds of hushed onlookers, men and women both, all of them wearing their finest clothes. _

_The courtier arrived before Miria and kneeled. A very familiar Ruud van Willems walked from the side in fine black robes. He grabbed the crown from the satin pillow as Miria kneeled. _

"_Countess Miria Victoire de Beauharnais-Malaga, you have saved Toulouse from civil war and united all its lands under Rabona's rule," van Willems stated. "The people of Toulouse wish for you to accept the throne and rule our lands fairly and wisely. Do you accept the position of queen?" _

_Miria hesitated a moment before answering, "I do." _

"_Then I dub thee Your Royal Majesty, Miria Victoire de Rabona, Queen of the Kingdom of Toulouse," van Willems stated. _

_Ruud van Willems placed the beautiful crown atop her head and stood back, bowing from the knee. The crowd in the Teresian Cathedral burst out in applause and tears of joy as Miria stood up. She circled around to take her place upon the throne. Renée was wiping away tears of joy, Natalie was hugging Renée and even kissed her on the cheek in joy. Renée surprisingly didn't object, while Cid was beaming at her. She took her seat as shouts in the joyous cathedral crowd broke out. _

_The townspeople shouted, "Vive la reine! Viva la reine! Viva la reine!" _

_Miria smiled at their shouts in Toulousan of "long live the queen!" _

_Abruptly everything went wrong, as two tremendous crashes of glass interrupted. People screamed out in alarm as two of the cathedral's massive stained-glass windows were smashed, each opposite the other. Landing in the midst of the cathedral were a pair of very familiar claymores. One had forehead-length bangs, her hair cropped short of the shoulder, and was wearing a black leather outfit and a massive sword upon her back. _

_Opposite the female claymore was a much taller, strongly built male claymore. He was also wearing a male version of a black leather fighting outfit, a massive claymore upon his back. He wore his blond hair messily, and Miria had little doubt whom he or his female accomplice was. _

"_Claire, Raki," Miria shouted at them, "what is this madness?" _

"_We've come to take down the new dictator," Claire announced, drawing her sword. _

"_I've been granted the throne by the people," Miria reasoned. _

"_You haven't been granted anything," Claire spat. "You've seized absolute power! Give up the throne or else!" _

_Miria shot back, "Never!" _

_People ran screaming from the cathedral as Raki drew his blade and the two faced off against the new Royal Guard. The slaughter was appalling as Miria frantically grabbed her blade from behind the throne. Renée dropped her robes, revealing a fighting outfit underneath, and drew her blade as Claire approached the throne. _

_Miria shouted at Natalie, "Natalie, run for it!" _

_There was a scream, and Miria turned to find Renée screaming out in pain. Renée had had her legs cut off in a vicious swing by Claire. Renée toppled to the cathedral floor, bleeding and screaming. Abruptly another twenty female claymores charged into the cathedral. Helen led them on, aiming a drill sword straight at Raki. _

_He merely dodged the spinning blade as her arm extended out. With a step back, he slashed down and Helen screamed out as Raki cut her arm in two. _

_Miria lost her patience and charged Claire before she could cut down Tabitha as well. Miria caught Claire's blade and deflected it. Tabitha, Nadia, and Nina stopped Raki from cutting down Miria from behind. The battle turned fast and vicious, Miria's comrades being cut down by Claire and Raki despite her best efforts. _

_Nadia was cut down in a vicious slash, falling to the floor. Yuma and Nina soon followed, desperately clutching their bodies and moaning in pain. Miria saw Miata enter the fray with Clarice on her side, but they didn't last long against Raki. Clarice was cut down in an effortless, lightning-fast slash by Raki. Miata, in shock, proved almost as easy to pick off. _

_Claire attempted an all-out series of slashes against Miria. Miria was dodging them with ease as she got rid of most of her robes. She was holding her own when out of the corner of her eye she saw Raki's blade incoming…_

Miria blinked her eyes open, breathing hard as she clutched her chest and sighed in relief. It had been a dream, just a horrible, horrible dream. She was in her command carriage, which had been traveling north from Rabona since news of an attack at Orleans. A pair of windows provided morning light upon the small bed jammed into the carriage. Miria was wearing only her navy-blue leather outfit as she flipped off the sheets.

There was a knock at the door opposite Miria and a familiar yoki present.

"Come in Colonel," Miria stated.

Renée walked in wearing a steel cuirass, gold-gilded pauldrons and gauntlets, and a fine steel helmet. She looked a little worried as she looked over Miria.

Renée asked, "General, is there something wrong?"

Miria sat up, sighing, "Nothing you need to worry about Colonel, just a nightmare. What is the news from Orleans?"

"It's horrible," Renée shuddered. "The first troops there didn't find anyone left in the town. There was evidence left behind that a number of people were burned at stakes."

Miria stood up, her eyes wide, "Burned at stakes?"

"There was also this," Renée said, handing over a note.

Miria read the note, "The Toulousan Inquisition will only end when all the silver-eyed demons are dead and the true rule of God is restored."

"It has to be the work of Mazarin," Renée stated. "Sister Galatea said Bishop Vincent was murdered by Mazarin. He's launching a holy war to restore the church to power…"

Renée 's words hung in the air as they both fell into deep thought pondering the hell that was undoubtedly coming.

"General, we also found the Orleans' armory was broken into and all the soldiers guarding the river fortress were killed," Renée stated. "What would you like us to do?"

Miria stood up and looked at a map of the star-shaped island. Near its center was Rabona, while Orleans was marked north of the city. Both cities sat along the mighty Toulouse River, the lifeblood of the island's economy and commerce.

Miria made up her mind and ordered, "I want martial law declared along the entire Toulouse River north of Rabona. I want Nadia's infantry regiment to secure Orleans from further attack and to search the local area for the insurgents. The army is to be placed on immediate alert, and I want the training regimen sped up. Forward a note to Lord Mayor Zaehringen requesting a boost in the military funding and size."

Renée had taken a notepad out and was scribbling down the orders madly. She looked up as Miria stopped.

"I also want you to take our latest infantry regiment east and reinforce the old Organization headquarters at Staff," Miria ordered, "you'll be taking Lieutenants Miata and Clarice with you."

Renée appeared shocked, "General, I'm in command of Rabona's defenses. You aren't relieving me of—"

"Relax Renée ," Miria reassured. "I need someone to strengthen our military presence in the eastern lands and also secure the Organization's archives from pilfering by our 'friends' in the Grand Alliance and the Romanow Empire. Secure Staff, fortify it, and we will reinforce your men as best we can. You will be my top commander in the eastern lands."

"Yes, of course general," Renée murmured.

"You're dismissed Colonel," Miria said.

Renée left the carriage and Miria stared in distress at the map. If Mazarin was smart, he'd do constant hit-and-runs against the Toulouse River Valley. While the Northern lands and much of the valley were under control and fortified, the eastern and southern lands were not. The western lands were under the control of the hostile Kingdom of Lautrec, and Lautrec was infamous for its opposition to the Rabona Orthodox Church. Mazarin would not easily be able to head west, and if he did, the Border Mountains between central Toulouse and western Lautrec were a death-trap.

Miria got out of the carriage, hopped on her horse, and headed north to Orleans with an escort. She arrived to find soldiers dousing flames in Orleans. Once inside the town she found Colonel Nadia setting up her infantrymen alongside her black-haired civilian husband, Raul.

"General," Nadia said, saluting. "We've found the bodies of over one hundred and fifty people. Of those some sixty men and women were burned at these stakes," Nadia pointed in disgust.

Dozens of iron stakes were arranged in the town square. Tied to them were blackened remains Miria could not bear to look upon.

Nadia continued, "We found a large number of notes left claiming they were acting against the fallen angel's children."

Miria sighed, "They think were some kind of devil, do they?"

Miria spotted movement atop the houses across the square.

She screamed, "Nadia, duck!"

The twang of three different bows let loose, and Miria heard Nadia scream out. Miria got up to find a particularly nasty steel bolt embedded into the left side of Nadia's belly. Raul was already screaming for doctors, while to Miria's right were two soldiers dead, steel bolts embedded right through their helmets.

Miria turned, drew her blade with fury, and charged towards the three individuals who'd fired the bolts. They were all men in peasant clothing, each holding a bizarre weapon as they reloaded atop the third floor roofs they'd fired from. Miria charged across the town square as soldiers began racing into the house's bottom. She took a more direct route, making a massive jump onto the roof.

She nearly slipped off, but managed to find her feet after scrambling foot and hand for grip. Miria ran up the roof as best she could just as the first of the attackers had begun to cock his weapon for another shot. He didn't as much as move as she came. Instead he raised his weapon and took aim. Miria dove feet first into him, sending him off his feet and the roof to a sudden end.

Miria turned left and barely dodged a shot from one of the fallen man's compatriots. They were both before her, and she noticed in alarm that the third man was taking aim at her with the strange weapon. She compensated and flung her sword at him, the blade hitting him in the chest. He crumpled while the other man turned to run. Miria didn't give him much time to do so.

The man cleared the gap between the house and another beside it. Miria jumped even further, cutting off his escape. She caught him by the scruff of the collar just as he dropped the strange weapon into the alley below.

"You're caught, give up," Miria said, hoisting him skywards.

"I'll never give myself in to the daughter of the fallen angel," the man said.

He produced a dagger in his right hand and attempted to stab Miria. To stop him she was forced to drop him with her left arm. She knocked his dagger away but also knocked him off balance. He fell backwards, hit the slanted roof once, and then fell to his death.

Miria dropped carefully into the alley below to find the man dead, his fluids spreading out around his fractured head onto the cobblestones.

"Ugh," Miria sniffed in disgust.

A dozen of her armored subordinates rushed up.

A sergeant asked, "General, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, but have someone retrieve my sword," Miria ordered.

A pair of soldiers rushed off to retrieve the sword as another presented the dead man's weapon.

"It's a strange weapon general," a soldier commented, holding it out to her. "It appears to be a cross of a bow and a ballista in nature. Its frame is reinforced by crossing steel strips, and its arrows are hollowed steel bolts."

Miria examined the strange weapon, which was unlike any bow she had ever held.

"Well, it's shaped like a cross, and it holds arrow bolts and fires them like a bow," Miria reasoned. "We'll call them crossbows. Take this back to Rabona and see if we can get anyone able to reproduce it."

Miria walked back to the town square to find Raul and a military doctor attending the curly-haired Nadia. Miria walked up to see them pulling out the steel bolt as Nadia screamed in pain. They seemed to be having trouble getting it out, so Miria pitched in. With one strong tug, the bolt came out, as did a significant chunk of Nadia's flesh with the barbed arrowhead.

"Shit, shit, shit," Nadia cursed, crushing her husband's left hand.

Raul yelped, at which Nadia apologized, "I'm sorry honey, I didn't mean to crush your hand. It isn't broken, is it?"

Raul cringed as he held up his left hand, "I think it might be broken."

Miria helped heal Nadia's belly with a little yoki synchronization. The blood stopped flowing first, followed by the flesh forming up in the gap the arrow left. The wound finished healing when the skin formed over the wound.

Nadia breathed a sigh of relief, "Well, I hope I don't get hit by another of those. I'll make it up to you dear," she told the cringing Raul, who was clutching his broken left hand.

A soldier came rushing up on horseback as Miria turned to stand, stopped before her, and promptly saluted, "General, the countryside is in flames all across the entire river valley. We've had rioting, acts of sabotage, hangings of merchants, attacks upon merchant convoys and claymores, and raids on half our army garrisons. Lord Mayor Zaehringen urgently asks you to return to Rabona."

Miria hissed, "Mazarin is going to regret provoking me."

* * *

Natalie blinked her eyes open to find the day's light was mostly gone. It was audibly raining outside, and she was snug in her large pink bed. Atop the bed was an adorable tiger cub, Dabi, who had fallen asleep upon the bed. He'd found the bump her legs made under the pink covers perfect for resting his wearied head upon.

Natalie sighed and lovingly stroked the baby tiger's head. A few moments later a female servant came in dressed in a plain, dark green dress. Her hair was covered by a white bonnet, and the young female servant girl was looking disapprovingly at Natalie in her white nightgown.

"Lady Natalie, it is almost noon already," she stated. "Your father and mother would not approve of such a lazy lifestyle."

Natalie yawned as the servant girl tossed the covers off and Dabi scrambled off the bed in alarm. She was on the Île des Poires, the "Isle of Pears". It got the name from the large pear orchards in its south. It was an isle due to the Toulouse River parting around it at its northern end and rejoining at the isle's southern end. The island on a map also looked pear-shaped.

Her parents, Count Cid Malaga and Countess "Phantom" Miria, had just bought the isle half a year prior. They'd developed the isle's northern end, renovating its lone manor and the servant dormitories. Given she was Miria's adoptive daughter, Miria's marriage to Cid had given her the title "Lady". It was a rank that came with its privileges and its annoyances.

This she was soon reminded of as other female servants entered the large bedroom. Her nightgown was taken off, she was given a bath in a wooden tub, her hair was shampooed and arranged, and then they started dressing her. She wasn't even given the chance to put on her underwear without five servant girls helping. She wasn't happy stripping down in front of so many others, even if they were female, but it was part of the routine that came with the rank.

Thankfully, Natalie thought, due to how Miria saved her life at the battle of Kerouac Gorge, she lacked the obvious belly scarring most claymores had. It made stripping down in front of human women a lot less embarrassing. They fitted an undershirt on her, and then stuffed Natalie into a pair of white cotton tights. To these Natalie added a white shirt, a pink riding jacket, and also a pair of long, light brown riding boots.

They left the room once she'd finished dressing, and Natalie soon turned to suckling Dabi on a bottle of warm milk. The growing tiger cub was adorably suckling when Renée waltzed in. Renée was wearing her usual armor, her gold-gilded pauldrons having picked up a few scratches.

"Oh hey Renée ," Natalie sighed, "how are things going?"

Renée looked wearied, "I've been ordered to Staff to make sure nobody sneaks into the Organization archives."

Natalie took out one of her dozens of hidden card decks, "Hey, do you have a little time for a card game?"

"You know your mother would go ballistic if she caught you gambling," Renée warned.

"I would stay for a game, but I don't have time. Just remember Natalie, not a word about the Monarchist League to anyone unless Nadia or I say so. In the meantime, make certain you keep your sword close. The man who killed Bishop Vincent is stirring up trouble all over, and I hear he's even targeting our kind in particular."

Natalie guffawed, "He's targeting claymores? Why, what did we ever do to him?"

"It's because your mother condoned the overthrow of the church's rule," Renée explained. "So make certain you keep safe and always be armed."

"Okay," Natalie agreed. "You're leaving now?"

"I just stopped by to say goodbye and to warn you," Renée stated. "Keep your eyes on the lookout for suspicious types."

Renée left the room and left Natalie in a melancholy funk. She decided to get out of it by visiting Claire and Raki's house, which was a mere two minutes walk away. She arrived to find a rather plain two-story home with a black gable roof. It had red siding, and its window frames and doors were painted a rich, contrasting white. She'd left Dabi back at the manor, as Claire had been furious with her for bringing over the tiger cub while her twins were around once before.

Raki was out in the yard under a tree working on a wood-working project. The twins, Victor and Teresa, were playing nearby just as the rain stopped. Each was dressed in identical blue baby dresses, at which Natalie giggled.

Raki, wearing a craftsman's brown work-clothes, stopped sawing and looked over, smiling.

"Bonjour! Are you here to play with the twins?"

Natalie was about to answer when there was a series of screams. Raki put his saw down immediately and ran for his sword. He picked it up as the twins looked on in obvious confusion.

"Natalie, look after the twins, I'm going to find out what's going on," Raki shouted.

Raki ran off in the direction dozens of screaming maids were coming from. Natalie suddenly found herself alone with the twins.

A maid ran by screaming, "There are rapscallions, dozens of them! Flee for your lives!"

Natalie made up her mind and picked up the twins, of whom Victor had already begun crying at the commotion. Natalie rushed them back towards the safety of the manor, or at least what she thought was the safety of the manor. There, atop its porch, Natalie saw a male servant fighting off an armed assailant with a crude spear.

Natalie wished she could help, but the silver-eyed toddlers screaming in her arms made that impossible. Thankfully the servant beat off the attacker. Natalie turned west to go back to Raki's house when she saw another rapscallion. He was threatening to run through a terrified servant girl with his sword when Natalie set down the toddlers.

"Don't move, okay," she told them.

She tore off and decapitated the man before the screaming girl.

Natalie tried to reassure the girl, "It's going to be okay—"

However the girl renewed her screaming at the sight of the headless corpse at her feet.

A man shouted, "There they are, there's the demon twins!"

Natalie felt a knot of fear rip into her as she turned. Half a dozen rapscallions, armed with swords, were charging towards the oblivious silver-eyed twins. Natalie ignored the safe, screaming servant girl and charged to save the twins. It was a close thing, as she just managed to throw her sword and kill the first rapscallion right as he was about to kill Teresa.

"She's unarmed," another shouted as his comrade crumpled, "kill her now!"

Something whizzed by, narrowly missing Natalie's torso. There was a yell, and Natalie turned to see the servant girl crumple, having been shot by a bolt. Natalie turned around barely in time to see a man aim a sword slash at her. She ducked underneath, and with a trick Renée taught her, kicked upwards, utterly smashing his jaw. He fell, dead, right before the screaming twins.

Natalie drew a knife to deflect the downward slash of yet another attacker. Instead of kicking him, she simply flung the knife into his neck. He crumpled, grasping futilely at his throat, and hit the ground. Natalie noticed the bolt-shooter was reloading yet another lethal bolt onto his weapon. Unfortunately there were three other rapscallions to slow her down.

Natalie rolled under and through one man's legs to dodge his attack. She scrambled up and picked up her blade. This she wielded in two fluid horizontal slashes and brought down two assailants. The third held back and then turned to run. Unfortunately there was still the bolt-shooter.

Natalie suddenly felt a stinging impact in her left shoulder. The breath was driven from her, and she slumped to her knees. She tried to get up with her left arm, but it scarcely moved. It took time to scramble to her feet, and she paid for it dearly. A second bolt hit her square in the chest. It pierced her right breast, went through the lung, and its arrowhead pierced out her back.

"Aggh," Natalie cried out.

She saw the shooter reloading and knew she'd be finished if he got a few more shots into any vital areas. She got up, all while in excruciating pain, and charged the dark-haired man. The smile on his face from earlier vanished.

The man screamed, "Why in God's name won't you demons just die?"

Natalie closed the distance as the man reloaded. A jolt of fear went through her as he cocked the weapon and raised it to fire. He suddenly was cut down from behind. The man slumped over to reveal Claire in her fighting outfit alongside the hairbun-loving Valencia.

Valencia rushed forward to Natalie's side to help her.

"Oh no, you're a mess," Valencia sighed. "This steel bolt shattered your left collarbone, and the other one is straight through your lungs."

Almost as if to emphasize the point, Natalie felt something coming up her throat. She kneeled on the ground and hacked out blood.

"Hold on, I'll pull them out," Valencia stated.

"Wait, wait," Natalie said, holding out her right arm, "can't you break them in two?"

"Not a steel bolt Natalie," Valencia stated, her navy-blue outfit covered in blood. "Alright, hold still and bite down on this."

Natalie found a circular wooden stick put in her mouth and bit down. Valencia gave a vigorous tug on one bolt. It came out with excruciating pain, as did the other. Natalie handed back the now-smashed stick. She was slowly healing, but at least she would live.

Natalie heard Raki behind her reassuring the twins, "it's okay my darlings, daddy's here."

Natalie turned to see the very tall Raki pick up the twins, each soon quieting their crying as he wrapped them in his reassuring embrace. Claire in contrast was barely moving, and was in fact leaning over a nearby picket fence.

Natalie walked over with Valencia to Claire's side.

"Hey Claire," Valencia stated, slapping Claire lightly on the back, "what's the—"

The next moment Claire hurled onto the ground.

They both stepped back as Raki rushed up with the twins to Claire's side.

"Claire, sweety," he said, "are you ok?"

Claire turned her head just enough to look at her husband, "No, I'm not okay. I'm pregnant!"

Raki's chance to reply was stolen by the approach of over a company of Toulousan troops. Natalie and everyone else present looked over to see them rush past them.

"Secure the manor and the servant quarters," an officer shouted. The infantry troops, wearing full armor, spread and began systematically searching the whole area.

Raki asked his wife, "Claire, why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I didn't know," Claire stated, "that's why!"

"Come on dear, we've got to get you and the twins someplace safe," Raki stated.

"Rabona," Claire murmured.

"Alright, we'll go find a safe place in Rabona until this blows over," he agreed.

The two walked off, with Raki carrying both twins while the visibly nauseated Claire leaned on her husband as they walked towards the northern docks.

Natalie sniffed in amusement as she heard Claire say, "I've got a terrible craving for pickles. Could you get me some?"

Natalie couldn't quite hear Raki's response as they walked off, but she knew he was the type to cater to his wife.

Valencia walked up to the Toulousan officer, who was wearing armor and had curly, dark hair and an attractive face.

Valencia hissed, "Just where in the world have you been Jean?"

"I've been busy putting down these attacks," he stated incredulously. "Come on Valencia dear, you can't seriously expect me to be available when there's a war."

Natalie recognized the officer: it was Captain Jean-Paul Murat, one of the four original captains of Rabona's Holy Guards army. He alone of the originals had not yet been promoted or elevated to a higher post. He had once been Renée 's subordinate as Natalie recalled.

Valencia huffed, poking Murat in an armored shoulder, "I'm not talking about today; I'm talking about the previous two. Where were you?"

Murat sighed, "Valencia, my darling fiancée, I'm sorry, but my parents demanded I show up for my granduncle's birthday."

This response however provoked the response opposite the one Murat desired.

Valencia huffed, "So I'm less important than your granduncle's birthday?"

Murat put his hands up, placating, "No, of course not dear. Valencia, pumpkin, I've got to get back to my men and duties."

Valencia sighed and watched him hurry back to his company, "God I love him. You know Natalie, speaking of coupling, whatever happened to that Pierre boy who I heard hit on you?"

Natalie sighed, "I haven't seen him since because Nadia thought he was behaving badly."

Valencia smiled, "Well, if you ever get married, just make certain to follow Nadia's advice."

Natalie frowned, "That would be what?"

"Screw him so hard he'll never want to fuck another girl in his life," Valencia profanely lectured to Natalie's great shock. "Jean is going to be in for one wild wedding night, let me tell you. I've got a few moves planned that'll blow his mind," Valencia divulged.

"Uh, thanks for that," Natalie stammered.

"No problem," Valencia replied.

Valencia walked off someplace, leaving Natalie alone and slightly shocked.

"I think I understand what you were trying to say about Valencia, Renée ," Natalie sighed.

A maid walked up and broke her contemplation, "Are those evil men gone, my Lady?"

"Yes," Natalie responded.

The maid ran off to tell her hidden peers while Natalie began thinking about something. She was bothered specifically about something Murat had said about where he'd been earlier. She didn't know what, but there was something off about his whole explanation.

* * *

The nun asked, "I just don't understand, how can there be male claymores if you said the Organization deemed them too dangerous to create Sister Galatea?"

Galatea sighed, "Sister Ulrike," she addressed the elderly nun, "I'm not sure, but I imagine they might've used different Yoma or selected cooler-headed individuals. That's the only explanation I can think of for why the Romanow Empire's embassy features four male claymores. I've talked briefly to Audrey, and she tells me they don't even call themselves claymores. Apparently on the mainland our kind is known as slayers."

"They certainly seem scary enough to deserve the name," Ulrike agreed.

Galatea heard a mess of people come through the door to the Teresian Cathedral's southwestern bell tower's belfry. Although her vision was very poor, the gray and white shapes were generally feminine.

Galatea asked, "What are so many nuns doing up here two hours before Friday services?"

"It's terrible," a young nun yelled.

Galatea identified the voice as belonging to the most excitable of the cathedral's nuns, Angelica.

Galatea held up a hand, "I know Bishop Vincent is dead, but we must do our best to move on Sister Angelica."

A whole bunch of nuns broke in at once, "But there are no priests in the entire cathedral!"

Another nun opened the belfry's door, gasping for air, as she'd probably run up the hundreds of stairs to the belfry.

"Sister Impératrice," the dozen or so nuns exclaimed, "why did you run up here?"

"They just found Father Mohr alive," Impératrice gasped triumphantly. "We can do the services now that we've found a male priest and—"

Ulrike objected, "Father Mohr is a theological idiot. I'm sorry, but I don't think he can manage to do the Friday services on his own."

Galatea put a hand on Ulrike's shoulder, "You should know better Sister Ulrike. Don't you remember our holy book's saying about saying slights about others?"

"I am not insulting him," Ulrike said defensively, "I'm stating a matter of fact. Father Mohr is a terrible speaker, he gets his holy book passages confused, and he's afraid of speaking in front of large groups. The LAST place we should put him is in front of the public!"

This statement however was guaranteed to set the other nuns' tempers and opinions blazing. Galatea sighed as the shouts began flowing thick and fast.

"Oh, and I suppose you're just the one to deliver the sermon," Sister Beatrice shot back.

"I will resign the church before I see a WOMAN desecrating the altar," Sister Angelica threatened. "There is no place for a woman before the—"

"Sisters," Galatea interrupted, "it seems to me we don't have a choice but to have Father Mohr involved in services. That said, I think we must involve ourselves in the service."

"It is strictly forbidden for women to be priests," Sister Impératrice snapped, "and it says so right here in the Holy Book!"

Galatea rebutted, "The third chapter of the _Book of Teresa_, verses 80 through 120 describing the priesthood never mentions that they must be men."

"How would you know Sister Galatea," Sister Angelica interrupted. "Aren't you nearly blind and unable to read?"

"I read the Holy Book to her," Sister Ulrike said, coming to Galatea's defense. "Sister Galatea has memorized the Holy Book as if it were printed in her head."

A new voice, that of the eldest Sister, Sabine, interrupted raspily, "Hold your arguments sisters of God. I've just read the passage Sister Galatea spoke of, and she's right."

"Thank you Sister Sabine," Galatea replied. "Sisters it seems to me we have two choices. Either we can refuse to do the ceremony because all of the other male priests have gone, or we can spread the true word of God to the people. I feel not spreading the word of God would be an infinitely greater sin against god than having women spreading that word of God."

"You're just like Phantom Miria," Angelica fired back. "You just want to seize power and—"

Sister Ulrike shot this statement down, "Sister Galatea fought Phantom Miria in defense of this very church. You should apologize to her now."

Angelica instead left the belfry, slamming the door behind her.

"Whoever cannot agree with having some of us nuns delivering parts of the service may leave. I will not hold it against them if they wish to do so," Sister Sabine stated.

Three more nuns left the belfry, muttering low things about desecration of the faith. At last the door slammed shut, leaving what Galatea thought were roughly a dozen nuns.

Sister Sabine asked, "Shall we make Father Mohr our Bishop?"

"I have already said he is not fit for the post," Ulrike criticized. "Since there is no fit male priest left, I suggest we make Sister Galatea the acting 'Bishop of Rabona'."

The storm of debate that followed lasted an exhausting hour and a half…

* * *

King Philippe sipped his tea with care as the Grand Alliance's agent, the sunglass-wearing Rubel Louvre, sat down in his dark robes across the table.

"Your Majesty," Rubel said, "why, may I ask, am I receiving reports of Grand Alliance-manufactured crossbows being used by Inquisition insurgents in the Dominion of Toulouse?"

They were seated in the Kingdom of Lautrec's governing palace in Gonal, which sat on the northern shore of the western lands of Lautrec. Specifically, Philippe and Rubel were seated at a table in the Royal Hall, a room that featured a set of vast, arched windows looking out onto the sea. Two enormous fireplaces dominated opposite sides of the room, while tapestries, paintings, lounge chairs, sofas, bear rugs, mounted animal trophies, and fine carpets decorated the room appropriately.

Seated beside Philippe was his increasingly pregnant wife, the dark-haired beauty, Queen Violetta, wearing her usual red and gold royal dress. She sniffed in amusement at the Grand Alliance man's line of questioning.

"You gave the Kingdom of Lautrec ten thousand crossbows," Violetta pointed out, flicking a hand through her luscious, straight black hair, "and set no conditions upon their use."

Rubel snapped, "The Grand Alliance demands to know why the very state we need to be strong against the empress is being weakened at such a—"

"Relax," Violetta suggested. "His Majesty and I came to the conclusion that the only way to guarantee this island becomes a part of the Grand Alliance is to force a hard choice upon the Dominion of Toulouse."

Rubel frowned, remaining silent for a few seconds before replying, "I'm beginning to see where you're going with this. You know that the Kingdom of Lautrec does not have enough spare troops to conquer the Dominion of Toulouse."

Philippe nodded, tapping the table with a silk glove, "That's correct. The Kingdom of Lautrec's forces currently number a little more than fifteen thousand troops, although within six months it'll be up to twenty thousand. The Dominion of Toulouse in contrast already has twenty thousand troops at its disposal and a massively fortified capital city."

Rubel seemed to be measuring them underneath his sunglasses, "You know you cannot win an all-out war with the Dominion, so you've secretly helped the Inquisition insurgents. Your goal is not for them to win, but for them to cause enough chaos for Lord Mayor Zaehringen to become desperate."

Violetta smiled, "I do admire an intelligent man. Yes, our plan is for the insurgency to be just strong enough that the Dominion won't have the military strength to end it. On the other hand, the Inquisition won't be nearly strong enough to actually threaten to take over the state. When Rabona finds it cannot gain victory, we'll come to them with an offer."

Rubel sniffed, "Let me guess, in exchange for your military help, you'll ask that your countries be united? Even though the Council of Lords will not allow you to become absolute monarchs, you'll find a way to get rid of them. That still leaves the massive problem of dealing with Phantom Miria, Claire, and Claire's husband, Raki. How do you plan to get them out of the way?"

King Philippe smiled, "Actually, we were hoping you could help us with that."

Rubel's lips tensed before he replied, "How so?"

Violetta smirked underneath her crown, "You wouldn't happen to know where the Dominion is imprisoning the remaining Organization leaders, would you?"


	4. Chapter 3: In the Court of the Romanows

**Chapter 3: In the Court of the Romanows**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A Complete History"**

**"The Alliance of Nations' downfall is almost universally tied to two groups: the silver-eyed slayers and the members of the Romanow family. Silver-eyed slayers, alternatively known as "Claymores", were first created after Awakened Beings backfired upon alliance troops at the Battle of Osaka. The program started out some twenty-five years before the Organization's downfall as an experiment. The program went active twenty years before the Organization's fall, the number of slayers increasing each year as the alliance came to appreciate their utility as expendable elite troops.**

**Ten years after the program's start, two female slayers would join the ranks, and they would change the course of human history. They were the original Romanows; the stepsisters Kasia and Rima Romanowa. By all measures, the two were unusual. They were uncommonly tall at 1.87 meters each, they were extraordinarily gifted combatants at age fifteen, and each had unique talents. Perhaps most importantly, unlike their peers, Kasia and Rima had volunteered to join the slayers' ranks. This marked them apart from their peers, although few could have predicted how far the unique Romanows would rise."**

* * *

It had been shortly after showing the empress the location of the Organization's island that Dietrich had been dismissed. The Silver Guards' deputy officer, a, by-now, familiar James Asher Havel had escorted her to Princess Kasia's quarters inside the interim Imperial Palace.

It had been full of activity, thousands of clerks, courtesans, Imperial Guardsmen, nobles, and military officers walking its marble-lined halls. It'd taken a full half an hour of walking through the palace's gorgeous corridors to at last get to Princess Kasia's quarters. They were located at the end of an immense hall, the gold-gilded Rococo-style doors opening to admit her. A quartet of Silver Guards stood silent guard as she'd entered an immense room looking out onto the palace grounds.

The room was centered on an ornate black-and-white marble fountain topped by two nude nymphs. Each had a pitcher, from which the fountain's waters sprayed downwards. Dietrich noticed a tall, silver-eyed woman at the fountain's edge busily scribbling notes. The woman was wearing a gorgeous black and gold-embroidered dress not unlike that worn by the empress but simpler. The woman turned her brown-skinned face as Dietrich entered the room, coolly observing her.

A courtesan announced Dietrich abruptly as the silver-eyed lady got to her feet.

"Princess Kasia," the flamboyantly black, white and red-dressed courtesan announced, "I present thee Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy. The Baroness has been assigned as your personal assistant by the Cesarzowa. She arrived today in Visegrad on behalf of—"

"Wenceslaus," Princess Kasia sighed, "Yes I know."

Princess Kasia put her notes down on the fountain's granite retaining wall and stretched to her full height. Dietrich was used to being shorter than others, but Kasia even by Dietrich's estimation was very tall. She stood at least a full head taller than Dietrich.

"Princess Kasia, I'm delighted to be of use," Dietrich declared after the courtesan left.

"No you're not," Princess Kasia sighed. "Your face and voice tell me you're not. You're probably thinking about how the Cesarzowa burned you, sending you to serve the lowest-ranking member of the Imperial Family. Naturally, you think I can't help you gain what Wenceslaus is seeking, and so you go through the motions. I am right, aren't I?"

Dietrich's lips twitched; she'd never met someone quite like Princess Kasia before. Well, Dietrich admitted to herself, that wasn't quite true. As Dietrich observed Kasia while biting her lip she noticed things. Kasia's small ornamental hat that vaguely resembled the empress' in all but scale, the mixture of black and white features that gave Kasia's face exotic good looks. There was also the number "3141" branded into one cheek, its raw pink features giving Kasia a very unique appearance. Most of all, Dietrich noticed Princess Kasia had a smooth-tongued charisma to her that most mainland claymores she'd met lacked.

"I hear your prior master didn't even have the courage to tell you what the purpose of your trip was," Princess Kasia commented.

Dietrich remained silent, like Wenceslaus had ordered her to be. She looked around, noticing things in the room like it being bordered in gold-rimmed bookcases, the enormous platinum chandeliers overhead, and the massive oak desk at the room's end.

Kasia's lips pursed, "Perhaps you'll warm up to me if I tell you a story about my life."

Princess Kasia walked over to her oak desk, which looked out on the beautiful palace grounds, and sat down. Dietrich sat down before the desk in a comfortable golden chair. A pair of well-dressed male servants walked forward and poured green tea for them.

Kasia observed Dietrich as they left the room with keen, exquisite eyes as she sipped her tea.

"Audrey tells me you were one of the rebels against the Organization," Kasia stated.

Dietrich looked up in surprise from her tea.

"I was the first person your former friend met when she arrived on the mainland alongside the Organization agent Rado," Kasia explained. "She wanted to be model claymore. It's ironic, because Audrey was in the Silver Guard when we Romanows finally deposed the High Command."

Dietrich had frozen up; this was not at all a subject she was comfortable or competent in tackling. But she couldn't help but want to hear as much as possible.

Kasia inquired with her mellifluous voice, "I'm curious Dietrich, but how did you come to join the Organization?"

Dietrich stammered at first, "Well, I…I was a little girl when it happened. There was an argument between some man in black and our village chief. A day later our village was annihilated by Yoma and these…"

"Awakened beings?"

Dietrich blinked to find Kasia leaning forward, her head resting on her hands. Evidently the interest was mutual, which Dietrich appreciated.

"Yes," Dietrich replied. "I didn't know then what they were. I was 'rescued' by the Organization's men. I pledged to use my life to protect the Organization until I found out the truth."

"From this Phantom Miria, no?"

"Yes…," Dietrich stammered.

She had been expecting the Romanows to be ruthless, but not charismatic, sympathetic, engaging, charming or quite so knowledgeable. Dietrich had wondered how so many millions of people could have thrown aside allegiances to their countries. If Kasia was any guide to the family, it was no longer quite a mystery how the Romanows had inspired confidence and loyalty.

"I would like to meet this Phantom Miria someday," Kasia stated. "Sadly, given how the war is going right now, that day is a long way off. Well Baroness, go on with your story."

Dietrich continued, "It was a short time after I met Miria that we organized an all-out rebellion against the Organization. It was a brutal but short fight. We eventually took out the Organization, and I would have stayed on the isle of Toulouse but for—"

"That storm you encountered," Princess Kasia interjected.

"How did you know about that?"

Kasia smiled, "Oh, a princess has her sources. I must say that is either the foulest or most incredible luck ever. You landed upon the continent and the first person you met was one of the greatest male warriors in history. I've never met him myself, although Rima says he's quite impressive," Kasia explained, smiling.

"Yes, he is," Dietrich said, priding swelling up. "Wenceslaus is the best person I've—"

"You have a crush on him, don't you Baroness?"

Dietrich fell silent in shock.

"I'm sorry for cutting you to the bone too much," Kasia stated.

"Your Imperial Highness, I don't think about Wenceslaus that way," Dietrich objected.

"Baroness, you may not know this, but you're lying to yourself," Kasia explained. "You've been sighing longingly from the first moment he was mentioned. Your yoki is also not unlike that of a female slayer in love."

Dietrich blinked, "It is?"

"Yes," Kasia replied. "Oh dear, I got our conversation all off track. I haven't even told you anything about myself. I guess I'll start at the beginning."

"With all due respect Your Imperial Highness, I don't see why I merit such a story."

Kasia smiled, "I like telling stories about my past and I don't like my aides to be uncomfortable around me. I would like to hear some more about you and Wenceslaus in return."

So that was it, Dietrich thought. Kasia wanted to know information about Wenceslaus. The story was just an excuse to get her to spill her guts about Wenceslaus' not-always positive personal opinion about the empress' actions. Dietrich wouldn't give in on that front if she could help it.

Kasia continued, "You'll notice that I'm of mixed race. My parents were black and white; they wanted to get married, but none of my grandparents would come to the wedding because it was a sin to 'mix blood'. The great thing about my parents is they went on ahead anyways."

Dietrich found her interest in Kasia increasing despite her lingering wariness.

"I was born a year after they were married," Kasia stated. "Later on, my parents tried to keep me sheltered from reality, but I always knew I was different. I never made friends with the local kids; I was always the awkwardly tall, weird girl no one wanted to associate with. Were you ever ostracized as a child, Baroness?"

Dietrich inquired, "No, but people were afraid of me after I became a warrior at age ten."

Kasia sighed, "Well, I guess we'll have to find things in common."

Dietrich asked, "Why wouldn't the other children be friends with you, Princess?"

"I was different, Baroness," Kasia replied. "My mother got worried about my growing hatred for all other children, so we moved back to her country. It was no different with black-skinned kids either. For her efforts I got showered with rocks and insults by kids of her race."

Dietrich wanted to give the princess a comforting hug, as she had rarely felt such strong sympathy for anyone before. She knew she could not quite relate, but slayers were different enough for her to have experienced wariness and fear from the common people.

"By then of course it was almost too late; I was coming to hate all children," Kasia sighed, and then turned around, looking out at the palace grounds. "I might have continued hating everyone besides my parents if I hadn't met Rima."

Dietrich remembered hearing the empress address a Rima and realized something.

Kasia smirked, "Yes, that Rima. My stepsister, the Crown Princess, was there to see you arrive. Of course, when I met her at an orphanage, she was just a tall, half-Maghrebi, half-Siyamese girl. It was the fact that Rima was of mixed descent that I related to. I must have spent hours talking to her."

Kasia sighed, almost as if anticipating something.

"I eventually convinced Rima to come back home with me. I wanted my mother to adopt her. I was so excited, and then of course everything went to hell," Princess Kasia glumly stated.

Kasia's tall frame slumped, the princess staring into her immense desk.

Dietrich spoke up, "Your Imperial Highness?"

"I'm sorry, it's just that was a horrible day. It seemed like fate had played a cruel joke on me when we got home. There was a man from the military there talking to my mother. I remember him saying that my father's expedition had been attacked by Smokowcy," Kasia sighed.

Dietrich had never heard the term before, so she asked, "What is a Smokowcy?"

"It's a word for multiple Dragonkin in Comnenian," her new superior explained. "I dreaded hearing anything about these creatures since I was very little. They killed for the sheer pleasure of it, they had extremely tough skin, and they were taller than my two-story house."

"Your father's expedition, what happened to it?"

"They were never found," the princess sighed, blinking her eyes. "I spent minutes demanding the officer tell me where they last saw my father. It was all useless of course. The only answer I got was that he regretted to say that my father was probably dead. My only consolation was that mother adopted Rima on the spot."

Dietrich was finding it hard to even ask a question; she even found herself liking Kasia.

"Because my mother never saved what my father earned, we were soon kicked out of our home. She eventually found employment in a place with a lot of red lights," Princess Kasia added.

"Princess," Dietrich stammered, "I really don't need to know about that."

"It's alright Baroness," the princess reassured. "Anyways, my mother tried to hide it from us, but I soon walked in on her 'at work'. I ran out of the room before she or her client noticed. Rima found me later, bawling and crying hysterically, and asked what happened. Rima wasn't very surprised, and kept justifying it by saying my mother needed to support us. I couldn't take it, so blocked it all out."

Dietrich felt her jaw slackening.

"It goes without saying that you cannot talk to Wenceslaus about any of this," Kasia stated, staring Dietrich in the eyes. "This is a purely girl-to-girl talk, understood?"

"Absolutely," Dietrich agreed.

"A couple years later my mother got pregnant and died in childbirth. Rima and I were grieving when we realized the local prostitution house would come for us."

Dietrich gasped, "But…but why you two?"

"Prostitution houses like to pride themselves on providing 'exotic choices' for their clientele," Kasia explained. "Rima and I were off the charts by most measures. We were tall, both of us were of mixed-race, Rima was good-looking, and best of all, we were just twelve years old."

"Your Imperial Highness, you are good-looking," Dietrich pointed out.

It was a true statement. Kasia's dress helped her looks, but Dietrich could tell the princess had good curves. If Kasia was like almost every female claymore, her legs were probably gorgeous. Kasia's shapely face was marred only by a number, 3141, which someone had branded upon her left cheek. Her forehead was hidden by long bangs, and descending halfway down Kasia's back was her lovely, wavy blond hair. Kasia had a beautiful, effeminate chin, shapely lips, and silver eyes Dietrich found entrancing. In fact, given how charismatic Kasia was, she couldn't imagine male slayers not being interested in her.

"Thank you Baroness," Kasia nodded. "As you might imagine, we ran for it rather than get enslaved. Unfortunately we had no way of supporting ourselves aside from thieving food on our travels. It was a week later I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen: a Srebrnooka zabójczyna."

Dietrich tilted her head to ask, "Excuse me, but what is a—"

Princess Kasia smiled, "You're one, my dear aide."

"Oh," Dietrich murmured, "you mean a female claymore?"

"You really need to learn more of the language, Baroness," Kasia commented. "Thankfully for me, my tongue didn't abandon me thirteen years ago. I followed the female slayer around a building, and she and her two comrades put their swords to my neck. As it turns out, they thought I was a spy. They were about to kill me when I asked how I might join their ranks."

Dietrich blinked in surprise, "You asked how to join our ranks when three silver-eyed slayers had swords to your neck?"

Kasia smirked, "Funny, isn't it? Rima was running up yelling excuses for my behavior when they all removed their swords. I don't think they had ever met a girl who wanted to join their ranks. I told them how their lives sounded incredibly exciting and must have been loads better than having to live day-to-day by thieving."

"What did they say?"

"They were trying to dissuade me," Kasia sniffed in amusement. "Rima was so sure I was going to die she was trying to drag me away. That was just about the moment when the three slayers mentioned the dangers of fighting Dragonkin. Rima suddenly got very interested, and within a day we were at a military office to volunteer."

Dietrich would have personally taken a career as a prostitute over the dangers of being a claymore, but she could appreciate why Kasia and Rima had volunteered to become hybrid warriors.

"Rima and I were soon 'hybridized', and I'm sure you know the effects," Kasia remarked. "Our hair turned blond, our eyes silver, our bellies were blackened and scarred, and then of course there was the branding."

"Branding?"

"Mainland warriors were completely expendable back then, and because we were so numerous, individually few of us mattered. To keep track of us, they branded us just before we were hybridized. I saw Rima get branded, so I resisted. They 'rewarded' my resistance by branding me on my face," the princess explained.

Dietrich felt slightly guilty about having been a claymore and not a mainland warrior as she glanced at the raw pink '3141' branded on Kasia's left cheek.

"Joining was traumatic, but the next three years were the best of our lives," Kasia added.

"They… they really were?"

"You sound incredulous, but it's true," Kasia smiled. "I had plenty of comrades of varied and exotic backgrounds, we looked similar to one another with our silver eyes and blond hair, and we could all relate. I was in training for three years learning many valuable things: swordsmanship, multiple languages, writing, reading, advanced mathematics, war tactics, strategies, spying, assassination, VIP protection, and even reconnaissance. I take it your training wasn't so enjoyable?"

"No, regrettably not, Your Imperial Highness," Dietrich answered.

"They branded Rima with a '3140' and me a '3141' because they had already had 3139 slayers by then. Rima and I were fifteen when we were declared ready for combat. We were assigned a squad. If I'd known what kind of hell it would turn out to be, I would never have gone."

* * *

**10 years prior to the destruction of the Organization...**

_"Slayers 3140 and 3141, _

_Your orders are to proceed with all haste to the Redwood Coast region and meet up with squad 159. Your superior is the veteran #110, who will meet you in the town of Chinh at the Trung Hotel. This will be your permanent station unless ordered otherwise. _

_ Colonel Nguyen"_

"How many damn times do you have to look at that note Kasia?"

Kasia glanced up from the note in her hand to find the source of the biting criticism: an equally tall, lanky, silver-eyed witch. The girl was obviously young, and was wearing a uniform that made the lanky frame slightly less awkward. The uniform's tight black fabric covered the girl from neck to toe, and over this was stacked a protective sleek, silver-colored steel cuirass. The girl had mixed Maghrebi and Siyamese features, and the girl's straight blond hair fell to just above the waist.

"I was just enjoying it Rima," Kasia answered back coolly, "and besides, aren't you at all interested in meeting our new squad-mates?"

Rima sat down in a narrow wooden chair at the opposite end of the spartan hotel room, which included the pair of them, a single four-post canopy bed with hanging white sheets, and a four-candle chandelier that lit the room just enough to see by. There was no window, and the floor was a simple, unfinished wood that felt cool to the touch.

"The only things I care for are killing Dragonkin and my artwork," Rima answered in a tenor voice thick with annoyance.

"Are you still annoyed at us getting here two days early?"

"Just for once in your life Kasia, could you take life easy?" Rima snapped, "Everything's always rushing and overachieving with you. Don't you ever want to sit back and enjoy life?"

"I do enjoy life, I just like overdoing things," Kasia told Rima with a wry smile.

Rima rolled her eyes at this, and then turned to various armor pieces lying on the bed.

"I should've known I'd never change that part of you," Rima said through gritted teeth.

"By the way Rima, speaking of never changing, why are you carrying a painting bag?"

Rima blanched for a moment, then got defensive, "Because...because an artist never knows when something truly special will come along that she absolutely must paint!"

Kasia held up some pictures Rima had drawn of her, "So then, why then do half of your paintings have me as the subject?"

"Hey, give me those! How many times do I have to tell you not to go through my stuff?"

"Alright, but still-"

Rima pointed to an exquisite black-and-white picture of a girl with wavy hair and a large 3141 on one side of her face, "I paint you because I need someone to practice on," Rima explained.

"Alright, fine, I can tell I'm wearing you out sister. Since our armor just arrived today, why don't we put it on and take a walk around town?"

It took a little while to put on the upper-leg protecting tassets and clip them onto their uniforms' belts. The armor that had awaited them at the hotel room also included a pair of nice new steel gauntlets, which clipped around their lower arms, wrists, hand, and fingers. Finally there was the open-faced steel helmet, which was topped by a short black braid, featured nose-guards, and fit perfectly.

"I hate to say this," Rima remarked, "But all this silver and black looks good on you."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Hey, don't get used to it," Rima smiled, "I'm not the soft type."

It took a moment to strap on their enormous claymore swords and sheath them. Walking out alongside Rima, they passed into the narrow hotel hallway, which was generously decorated with countless tapestries unlike the simple rooms. The lobby's single employee cowered behind her desk as they passed by, to which Rima remarked, "I guess the armor doesn't make us any less scary."

They emerged outside to find the sky overcast with dreary gray clouds and a light rain.

"You know, we both are kind of tall, Rima," Kasia pointed out.

"True," Rima admitted, "it's not every day somebody runs into a pair of tall silver-eyed girls with giant swords."

A look around was enough to confirm Rima's prior assessment of the coastal town of Chinh as sleepy. The town was only three blocks long and two wide, enclosed on all sides by wooden palisade wall manned by a few half-awake guards. Dozens of townspeople, mostly of Siyamese descent, were ambling along the streets despite the rain and doing business. Countless chimneys were smoking overhead on top of the steeply slanted wooden roofs and white-washed walls of the town's blockhouses.

Rima led ahead to the narrow walkway along the town's western wall, where a glance down was enough to confirm why there was a strong smell of the sea in town.

"Well, we could always fish for our dinner," Rima commented, looking out to the ocean crashing upon the jagged rocks a few stories below.

A narrow walkway etched into the rock was visible below descending to a small port protected by a rocky outcropping. A few fishermen were hauling their catches up the walkway while a few old men were fishing off the port's lone pier.

"You can do the fishing Rima, because I don't have the patience for it," Kasia declared.

Rima asked, "What are those men doing over there by the gate?"

It took a mere glance to follow Rima's pointing, and it was obvious who Rima was looking at. A group of black-cloaked men were entering the town of Chinh at the southern gate. They were followed by a team of oxen hauling in a massive load of pre-cut timber. A pair of guards was talking to the men as the dozen cloaked men walked past the ramshackle wooden gatehouse.

"That's just a bunch of lumberjacks Rima, what in the world are you so concerned—"

The words were stilled with the screams of pain from the pair of guards near the gatehouse. The cloaked men had stabbed the guards from behind with short swords. The dozen other town guards rushed towards the attack, but it was too late. The cloaked men were reinforced by several dozen more, all of whom rushed into the town through the open gate.

A cloaked man took off his black cloak to reveal plate armor, a long sword, and a rounded steel helm with a white hair tassel.

The other cloaked men also de-cloaked while the captain spoke loudly to the hesitant town guards in a foreign tongue, "Diese Stadt gehört heute der Grand Alliance. Alle Menschen widersetzen wird zu Tode gebracht werden. Wenn Sie nicht wollen, zu sterben oder Ihren Familien weh, ich fordere Sie auf, mit uns zusammenzuarbeiten!"

Rima looked confused for a moment, "What the hell was he saying?"

"Does it matter? Those have got to be Grand Alliance troops, just look at the white and red colors they're carrying. Come on, let's go," Kasia shouted while jumping down from the wall into the muddy town streets below.

It took only a moment for Rima to follow, both of them unsheathing their swords and charging forward. Rima smiled as she tore past, while Kasia followed, racing towards the town square. They then made a sloppy turn to the right to get to the gatehouse, where the town's guards had just engaged the attackers despite being outnumbered. The distraction of the attacking guards was not enough, the enemy captain immediately spotting them bearing down on his four dozen men.

The enemy captain shouted clearly in his tongue, "Achtung, da gibt zwei Hexen! Wo sind meine verdammten Bogenschützen?"

He seemed to be asking a question when six longbowmen, wearing red with white uniforms, emerged on top of the town gatehouse's two three-story guard towers. Rima was charging ahead, holding back the massive claymore sideways for the lethal strike on the captain. The six longbowmen loosed a volley upon her, which resulted in much squawking as the arrows embedded into Rima's unprotected legs. Rima's momentum however resulted in a large collision between her and a dozen enemy soldiers guarding their captain.

The resulting collision knocked the men off their feet and created a pile of bodies, leaving many nearby confused. The collision left an opening in the ranks of the enemy captain's men, which Kasia saw and charged straight for. The captain barely had time to stand when she swung to kill.

"Scheisse," the captain muttered as her claymore nearly slashed him in two, having easily cut through his plate armor.

It took a moment to land properly, and when Kasia did there was a score of enemy soldiers all around. A dozen of them ran towards her at once, trying to bring her down through sheer weight of numbers. There was nowhere to maneuver, as she'd landed underneath the town's gatehouse.

Kasia took a two-handed horizontal swing of the claymore using Yoma energy to clear away the attackers. A half-dozen of them dodged the rotating swing entirely, but a few weren't so lucky. One spearman attempted to dodge the blade by dropping beneath the swing, but her blade instead intercepted his neck, his head flying clear off.

Rima took the momentary lull after the triumphant swing to kick free of the tangled mass of enemy soldiers she'd landed in, grunting in pain. Rima pulled out an arrow with stoic silence, then with nonchalant disdain stood up, despite having another eight still in her upper legs. The enemy soldiers nearest Rima jumped back, uncertain whether to attack or flee.

"Hey Kasia, just stand back for a moment, I'm taking the rest," Rima grinned.

The thirty remaining enemy soldiers charged Rima, seeking to overwhelm her with attacks on all sides. Rima showed little concern as the soldiers came on, but instead held her blade back, preparing to swing. As ten soldiers closed within sword range of Rima, she swung in a blur of motion. Ten enemy soldiers dropped to the ground, felled instantly by the skilled swing.

The other twenty soldiers, having seen their numbers drop so quickly, began retreating. Kasia was going to let them leave, but Rima charged off, not satisfied with the prior fighting.

Kasia shouted, "Rima, wait a second, don't go killing them all!"

* * *

"I have never seen SUCH stupidity in my thirteen years in the service!"

Kasia was grimacing at the verbal tirade being unleashed upon her and the stoic Rima by a black-skinned, silver-eyed slayer. The slayer was not of great stature, like them, but had an intimidating voice and no-nonsense attitude. She'd introduced herself to them only by her number, 110, and identified herself as the commander of slayer squad 159. A pair of other slayers had shown up alongside #110, each female and far younger. The rest of the squad, #110 informed them, was out scouting along what was ordinarily a quiet front.

It was when Rima had disclosed that she had killed all of the Grand Alliance soldiers who attacked the village of Chinh that #110 flew into a fury. After calling Rima a "complete moron", squad 159's commander ordered them back to their hotel room. Rima was incensed, so Kasia had been forced to soothe Rima's temper before #110 returned. When #110 returned, she ordered them into the chairs of their hotel room and restarted the harangue.

#110 cussed, "What the hell were you two thinking? How in the world will we know what the enemy's up to when you kill all of them instead of capturing a few?"

"Commander," Kasia said, attempting to soothe her superior, "I realize-"

"That's enough Number 3141," the black-skinned slayer snapped. "I've been on this front for ten years, and in that time you know how many times we've captured enemy soldiers?"

"Four times," Kasia answered, recalling the information from her pre-mission briefing.

"Yes, and thanks to miss idiotic here," #110 pointed to Rima, whose lip was curling in silent anger, "I don't have the opportunity to find out what the Grand Alliance is up to. I selected you two to join my squad because you came highly recommended. I am struggling to understand why you were recommended when you just broke every rule in the field operations manual."

Rima shouted, "I don't give a damn."

Kasia pleaded, "Would you calm down Rima? You know we don't want needless drama."

"I guess I should have expected no less," the squad commander sighed, then took out a few pages of paper from behind her massive back-sheathed Katana sword.

Kasia asked, "What's that?"

"Your training records Miss Romanowa," the commander stated, then thumbed open a page. "Your trainer sent me your files after I requested them."

Kasia queried, "It doesn't say anything bad about us does it?"

The commander began reading aloud, "Kasia and Rima Romanowa are the only known female volunteers to have joined in five years. Number 3140, Rima Romanowa, is an offensive warrior, and shows great promise. However she is temperamental, obsessed with killing Dragonkin, and lax in her training. Number 3141, Kasia Romanowa, is a defensive warrior, has a charismatic but efficient personality, and shows some promise."

Kasia yelled, "I only show 'some promise'?"

"Sit down and stop yelling Kasia," Number 110 ordered.

Kasia sat down begrudgingly, harboring all sorts of annoyance at the man who'd previously trained her for praising her in training and writing otherwise in his reports.

"Don't take it as an insult," the commander said. "I myself was told I'd never amount to much, and I have survived for thirteen years."

"Yeah, but you did it on the quietest front of them all," Rima spat.

"Have a care rookie, I could easily send you to the southern front. Rookie slayers there have a life expectancy of five months in the field," the black-skinned commander pointed out.

"But they get to kill Dragonkin and—"

Number 110 scoffed, "Get to kill Dragonkin? Listen up young girl; you have no idea of what tangling with Smokowcy is like. Taking on one of them with anything under ten slayers to one of them makes for a dangerous fight. Anything under a five-to-one margin is suicidal."

"I've heard otherwise," Rima smirked.

Number 110 scoffed, "You may think yourself a top fighter, but I've met those three you're referring to, and you are NOT Wenceslaus, McKenzie, or Cheung! Besides that, none of them intentionally sought to fight a Dragonkin one-on-one. If you do that, you'll wind up dead."

Abruptly Kasia could feel an average strength yoki approaching the town, seemingly homing in on the Commander's location.

Kasia spoke up. "Um, Commander?"

"You don't need to tell me," Number 110 shot back.

They left the hotel room and hurried to the lobby to find a silver-eyed female warrior breathing hard, covered in sweat and fresh rain. The girl was young, and had the narrow eyes, cute nose, and straight hair of a Siyamese.

"Commander Noir ma'am," the girl saluted, "I'm reporting in. Corporal Havel sent me; Angkor City is destroyed."

"What?"

The girl flinched while Rima shooed the hotel's receptionist out of the lobby.

"Angkor City was attacked two days ago, and Havel and I arrived there last night to find it in ruins. Half the city was in flames when I left it and Havel was still trying to find survivors," the petite warrior explained while Noir's face contorted in shock.

Noir seemed lost in thought for a moment.

The girl pressed for a decision, "Commander, what should we do?"

* * *

"Holy shit," Kasia mumbled, staring in disbelief at the scene before her.

They had been traveling for just over a day, passing underneath the dark, forbidding canopy of Redwood trees along the coastal road. All along the way they'd encountered hundreds of fleeing refugees from Angkor City's outskirts, each bringing a new tale of woe. As they'd walked, Kasia managed to get Commander Noir to open up about the latest news about the northerly "Northrumbian Front". As it turned out, Commander Noir had just responded to a hit-and-run attack against Nguyen Village when she'd felt Rima's yoki spike nearby.

Having fruitlessly dealt with the latest in a series of hit-and-run attacks, Noir was furious to discover Rima's killing of all potential enemy prisoners. Noir's fury was even more understandable given that the attacks had quintupled in the last four months. Thus when Rima deprived Commander Noir of possible prisoners, Noir had understandably exploded. Of course, given Rima's temperament, Kasia did not dare tell her stepsister of her sympathies for Noir.

They had just cleared the last of the forest and were striding up a hill when Kasia uttered her exclamation. Angkor City was an impressive place, even half destroyed, with five-story tall city walls, a massive central citadel, large homes even taller than the city's walls, all of it encircling a large harbor. Much of Angkor was smoking or smoldering in ruins, and there were a number of holes in the walls, but worryingly there was no sign of siege engines. Whatever had hit Angkor City had been large enough to smash through the walls and do it quickly.

Noir led the five of them onwards, past the smashed farms outside the city and half-eaten cow carcasses. They clambered up over the stone rubble that remained of one section of the city's walls to find a horrific scene. Homes everywhere were smashed up, burning, smoldering; dead civilians and soldiers lay everywhere, some already beginning to smell, and lying all over were weapons of war. Noir led on, heading straight for a group of three yokis further in.

They arrived, having waded through the destruction and death-filled cobblestone streets to find a large harbor. Much of its piers were littered with slaughter, but a few boats further out seemed untouched. Coincidentally these distant piers were also where they found the sources of the yokis; three silver-eyed slayers. The leader of this group, a thin, somewhat tall male with short, white hair, turned at Commander Noir's approach.

"Commander Noir," he saluted. "I've sent an emergency distress message to the District Military Chief. He reports that troops are inbound and will secure what remains of Angkor City within the next day."

"Thank you James," Commander Noir sighed.

James looked past Noir and right at Kasia and Rima, "Who are the tall rookies?"

Commander Noir introduced them with a little grace, "Corporal Havel, these are your newest comrades, Privates Kasia and Rima Romanowa."

Rima and Kasia politely shook hands with the three slayers, James Havel being the only male in the group. He was, as Kasia noticed, a fairly handsome male slayer, with a well-shaped chin. His only real faults were his hawkish nose and lack of an especially manly build. But then again, Kasia reasoned, slayers were not known for their especially muscular builds. After all, when you had to run and walk all the time, especially large muscles were just more weight to slow you down.

"Commander," Havel said, pointing to a pair of terrified fishermen cowering in a boat at the pier's end. "These fishermen say we've got a major problem."

Noir scoffed, "A major problem? Yes, the whole damn city's a wreck, and by the looks of it, the entire garrison is dead along with almost all fifteen thousand of Angkor's civilians! What could be worse than that?"

Havel grimaced, his lips pursed, "They say they saw a Smok."

Kasia noticed in the corner of her eye Rima's sudden attention upon hearing the Comnenian word for a single Dragonkin. The others, including Noir, fell silent in shock, while Kasia felt her stomach clench in distress. Facing a Dragonkin might've been Rima's wish for revenge, but Kasia had never desired to face one, as she cared much more for her survival.

The cries of thousands of circling and feasting seagulls cut through the silence, each of them spiraling around the partly cloudy, smoke-filled skies with glee at the feast beneath. A pair of bodies drifted by in current as Kasia glanced between the distressed Noir and the taller, grimacing Havel.

"That's ridiculous! It takes a large amount of food just to sustain a Smok in the field, and they'd have had to cross the Northrumbian Mountain Range to reach the coastal plains," Noir reasoned, sounding frantic.

"Commander, we found this to corroborate their claims," Havel declared, taking a large, sharp tooth the size of his head out of a cloth bag lying on the pier.

"Crap," Noir muttered, not looking at all like her previous calm, collected self.

"Looks like our human friends are here," Havel muttered, glancing past everyone.

Streaming into the harbor were countless warships, varying in size from small sloops to massive man o' wars. Their sails were coming down as they searched for places to tie up in the partly wrecked harbor. Flying from their masts were various flags, none more numerous than a blue flag covered with fourteen golden stars, each representing a country in the Alliance of Nations.

"What's the matter rookie, never seen a male slayer mope?"

Kasia shook her head at the forlorn-looking James Havel. They were both leaning against the trunk of an enormous Redwood, its bark covered in a thick blanket of moss.

"Well, actually, you're the first male slayer I've ever met," Kasia admitted.

In the aftermath of hearing that a Dragonkin had attacked Angkor City, the entire squad, twelve strong, was gathered the next day. Noir had broken out in sweats on a few occasions, which was understandable as Noir was the sole survivor of a Dragonkin hunt ten years ago. This little tidbit about Noir was brought to Kasia's attention by Liang, who was the squad's main scout and tracker. Despite meeting everyone, there had been little time to get to know anyone, and Rima had not helped matters by being prickly.

They'd started off at a fast pace, following the trail of destruction the Dragonkin left out onto the coastal plains. There the trail meandered, sometimes turning left, and then randomly swinging right. Or at least it seemed so until Liang pointed out that the trail turned whenever a large farm was nearby. At each of the farms, true to expectations, were signs of pillaging and dead animal skeletons. It seemed the Dragonkin was feeding itself as it moved along.

Accompanying the Dragonkin were countless soldiers, the Grand Alliance group leaving a path of destruction forty kilometers long, with countless witnesses numbly pointing where the aggressors had gone. At last the trail reached the Forest of Giants, a collection of enormous Douglas fir, Cedar, and Redwood trees. Noir had stopped them for the night at the forest's edge, its lofty canopy blanketing the camp and forest floor in darkness even now in midday.

Kasia had settled down next to a particularly prodigious Redwood on the edge of the forest. Seconds later, a depressed-looking James Havel sat down nearby, burying his face into his hands. She'd stared at him for a moment when he glanced over and asked about never seeing a male slayer moping. Obviously Kasia hadn't, as she'd never seen a male slayer in her life, and told him so.

James took out a small chain of beads from a pocket underneath his armor and began thumbing through them, his eyes closed. It appeared as if he was muttering something, but try as she might, Kasia couldn't pick up the words.

Kasia queried, "What are you doing?"

James looked over while nearby pale-skinned Liang and Noir got a fire started.

James asked, "You've never seen a man pray for his soul to be forgiven?"

"What do you need forgiveness for?"

"It's a long story," James declared, not sounding interested in speaking about it.

Kasia kept trying, "Can I at least ask you how you acquired such an exotic name?"

James seemed taken aback by her curiosity, "I thought Havel was not that unusual—"

"I meant your first name, James," Kasia corrected him.

It was at this point that Kasia noticed Noir trying to surreptitiously listen in.

"What, you've never heard of a James before?" Havel asked.

He sighed when she shook her head. "Ah well, that figures. You're a landlubber type I bet. You can find people named James in the Kingdom of Breton, which is where my mum was born."

"Your mum?"

"Mother," James explained. "My dad was a sailor in the Alliance of Nations' Navy, and back in those days Breton was just a modest island province off the mainland. A little after I was born things went to hell, and Breton declared its independence. My mum and I went through eight years of the worst living you can imagine before she died."

"So what about your dad?" Kasia pressed, "Why didn't he help you out?"

"My dad didn't know about me. As far as my father was concerned, my mother was just the prostitute he banged for a couple of nights and didn't think about again," James sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but I guess it's because I can feel something special about you. You and Rima both really, it's almost as if god is telling me something about your destinies…"

"I don't believe in destiny," Kasia stated.

"Come on, how else would you become a silver-eyed slayer if it wasn't your destiny?"

"I volunteered," Kasia clarified, drawing a gasp from James.

"What do you mean you volunteered?" James asked, incredulous. "Why in the world would you volunteer to die?"

"I volunteered so that I could survive," Kasia stated, defiant.

"Anything would be better than this life," James exclaimed.

"There's worse than this life," Kasia stated. "It's watching your mother die in childbirth while the world looks away. It's having little boys and girls taunt you because you're neither entirely black nor white. You know what? This life isn't that bad, at least you don't have to watch a family member die all over again, and everyone's too afraid of you to insult you. As for me, I have no intentions of dying; I'll survive by doing whatever it takes."

"But what if you do something horrible when you're attempting to survive?"

Kasia considered this for a moment, "Surely your God must understand, and if he can't forgive a juvenile his mistakes, then he surely isn't God. At least I'd forgive whatever you did, even if you can't forgive yourself."

James eyes widened in shock, "You're sympathizing with me?"

"Why wouldn't I? Just because the world forces you into a life you didn't want, doesn't mean you should be condemned for it," Kasia reasoned.

The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough, and for once, it was possible to forget all worries. James was a great storyteller it turned out, and told tales of his days at sea. He was just finishing telling the tale of encountering a pod of whales when Kasia felt herself falling asleep. She yawned, then leaned against James and began closing her eyes.

"That's far enough," Noir screamed.

Kasia jumped up to find Noir standing nearby, her face wearing a mask of outrage.

"He's not yours, he's mine," Noir huffed.

"I was just tired," Kasia said defensively. "James was telling me—"

"You think I don't know what you were up to hussy? When a squad has only one male slayer, he's obliged to bed the strongest female unless he's commander," Noir lectured.

"Noir, come on, we don't need this now," James stated. "We're hours away from attacking a—"

"Shut up James," Noir spat. "You won't be getting off either. Get out your damn sword Kasia. We'll settle who deserves James right now."

"Noir," James exclaimed, pointing to some empty beer bottles near the camp's fire. "Have you been drinking and not filtering the alcohol out?"

Kasia backpedaled to hide behind James while the squad's other female slayers didn't as much as move to defuse the situation. Rima unfortunately was nowhere to be seen as Noir unsheathed a large single-edged, curved Katana sword.

"Get out from behind him and face me you coward," Noir ranted. "If you think I wasn't listening in to your little silver-tongued seduction, you thought wrong girl!"

"Noir, would you listen to yourself?" James said, and then he walked forward, wrapping his hands around Noir's upper arms. "I know you're stressed and drunk, but please Noir, she's just a rookie. She didn't know about the natural order of things, so—"

James never got a chance to finish, as he was cut down in a violent slash of Noir's blade, his chest soon covered in blood. James fell to the ground, immobilized, writhing and groaning in pain from his wound.

"You bitch," Kasia thundered. "How could you do that to your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend, he's mine to whatever I please with," Noir snarled. "Ever since we slayers came along, the strongest had a right to have whomever they wanted. James doesn't have any choice in that matter, nor did I when I was younger. I've waited a very long time for a male to have all to myself, and you're not taking him away from me with your smooth talking and seductive sympathy."

Noir finished by running forward, and then swung the blade with great speed. Kasia flipped backwards, barely dodging the swing, and then planted both feet in a combat stance upon landing. She took out her straight-edge claymore and reluctantly assumed a combat stance.

"What's so wrong with sympathy? James is a person, not a possession," Kasia shot back.

Noir rushed forward, and then they exchanged desperate blows. Kasia just barely managed to deflect the first strike with the flat of her blade, as Noir was easily the strongest fighter she'd met aside from Rima. Kasia ducked into a roll to avoid a horizontal swing, and then barely stopped a blow from slashing her across the torso.

"You're not bad," Noir complimented. "Too bad I'll have to cut you up."

"Come on," Kasia yelled at the immobile silver-eyed spectators, "Lee, Liang, somebody, won't anyone help me calm her down?"

The fight continued while the others at the camp stared blankly at them, seemingly fixed in their inaction. Kasia even managed to wound Noir with a light slash across the left arm, but Noir seemed absolutely determined to keep going despite the injury.

Kasia barely ducked under a slash that instead furrowed out woodchips from the nearby Redwood's trunk. The fight was continuing, and despite Kasia's best efforts, her effort waned, as she lacked Noir's incredible conditioning. Noir finally knocked her down with a well-aimed roundhouse kick which sent Kasia's sword flying.

"Please Commander," Kasia pleaded, "I wasn't trying to do anything."

Kasia scrambled backwards, gasping for air as Noir flashed a malevolent grin.

"What about the Dragonkin?"

"You'll heal soon enough for that," Noir spat. "But I'm going to give you a beating you'll never forget. You get close to James again, I'll kill you."

Noir raised her blade to strike; abruptly the massive flat edge of a claymore crashed down upon Noir's head. Noir was knocked out instantaneously, her body flopping to the ground as the whole squad gasped. Standing triumphant over Noir was Rima wearing a look of cold fury.

"You had that coming bitch," Rima spat at Noir. "Come on Kasia, let's go."

* * *

"We should go back," Kasia pleaded to her stubborn stepsister.

"Not a frickin' chance. Not when the rest of them were just sitting there watching it like some sort of gladiator sport," Rima sneered.

Rima had grabbed her and headed into the Forest of Giants. Kasia was regretting her decision to follow along in her exhaustion. The forest was nearly pitch dark, lit only by irregular flashes of lightning from a coming storm and a little moonlight. Even though silver-eyed fighters had excellent night vision, it was still difficult to see in the immense forest. Overhead the trees groaned with the rush of the oncoming wind, a small pattering of rain coming down.

"Shouldn't we stop for the night? There's a storm coming, and we'll get drenched," Kasia pleaded.

"I don't care," Rima replied. "I'm hot on the trail of our Dragonkin. I found his footprint a little ways from here."

Kasia's stomach felt sick; the last thing she wanted right now was to track a lethal Dragonkin.

"Oh come on," Rima said, exasperated. "I said we were tracking it. Did you actually think I was dumb enough to take on a Smok with just two of us?"

"You were giving me that impression earlier Rima," Kasia pointed out. "I don't understand why Noir snapped like that though. I understand she regarded James as her 'possession', but—"

"It wasn't your fault Kasia," Rima reassured. "You remember poor Celestina having that breakdown right before the final test?"

"Well yeah," Kasia admitted while clambering over an enormous fallen Redwood trunk covered in moss. "She started crying and then attacked our trainer before he could announce the test's start."

"Noir had a breakdown just like Celestina. Liang says she had a nightmarish mission against a Dragonkin ten years ago, and I'm guessing it traumatized her. Her superiors still needed a veteran like her, so they stationed her on the quietest front they could find."

"Yeah, but she attacked me over James, and…" Kasia stopped as she considered Rima's words more carefully. "Oh, you mean—"

"I bet she was nearly pissing herself in fear," Rima interrupted while jumping off the fallen Redwood onto the fern-covered forest floor below. "Then you come along and smooth-talked her prize possession, and she freaked out and thought she was about to lose everything."

"I was NOT smooth-talking James," Kasia huffed a little loudly.

"Quiet," Rima snapped, listening intently.

Kasia walked up alongside Rima and asked, "What is it?"

"I could've sworn I heard a roar just now," Rima whispered.

The storm was finally overhead now, a steady heavy rain coming down, drenching the two of them as Rima listened.

"Rima, if I can't hear anything in this storm, then you most certainly can't," Kasia huffed. "Come on, let's go back. This place is scaring the hell out of me."

Kasia began walking down a clear portion of the forest floor and then abruptly fell into an enormous puddle.

"Goddamit," Kasia cursed.

Rima ran up, looking impressed while standing idly by.

"Ah come on, can't you help me up at least?"

Rima grabbed her by the right arm and hoisted her up, and then pointed back to the puddle. Kasia turned to look, a mere glance being enough to churn her stomach with unease. The puddle was the footprint of something massive with three pointed toes in a dinosaur-like shape. The footprint Kasia estimated to be longer than Rima was tall; it belonged to a monster.

"Oh no," Rima muttered.

"What? Did you hear anything?"

"No," Rima said, looking around in deep concentration to check the surroundings. "But that footprint is pointed straight in the direction of our camp."

Kasia followed frantically behind Rima, running along muddy trails, over fallen logs, dodging falling limbs, the Dragonkin's trail easily lit by the flashing light of lightning overhead. Great crashes of thunder interrupted the rushing sounds of the wind and the heavy patter of the downpour. They followed, finding an occasional enormous footprint or smashed patch of ferns and kept on, frantic. The trail was not deviating in the slightest, even as it wound its way around the enormous Redwoods all around them.

"It's going to find our camp at this rate," Kasia gasped.

"Damn bastard," Rima cursed, "Just my luck; I won't be there when it arrives!"

They kept running down the trail for an hour, finding nothing but more Redwoods and the occasional footprint. It was when Rima found a fresh footprint that they stopped for a breather.

"Hold it," Rima ordered. "I recognize these woods. I think we're only a fifteen minute run from camp. Is it just me, or is the only yoki you feel Havel's?"

Kasia noticed that James' yoki was further ahead, but it was understandably distressed from the wound he'd gotten earlier in the evening. There was just one problem with Havel's yoki other than this; he was headed straight towards them.

Kasia groaned, "Oh no, he's probably trying to find us—"

"Cool it," Rima snapped. "James wouldn't be going anywhere, not when his mistress is hurt. The only reason he's heading straight towards us is he's running for his life."

"No, that thing couldn't have hit camp already, we just left it four hours ago," Kasia cried, feeling a horrible sense of depression creeping up on her.

"It's chasing James," Rima declared, looking at a puddle of water underneath a large fern.

Kasia yelled in alarm, "We've got to go save James!"

It was at this moment that the puddle rippled, not from the rain but from the impact of something hitting the ground far away. Kasia stopped talking and glanced down, as did Rima. It rippled yet again, this time more strongly.

"We're going to ambush this thing right here," Rima declared.

Kasia glanced around but didn't find much room to maneuver, with plenty of downed logs, enormous tree trunks, and muddy trails hindering her mobility.

"No Rima, we've got to get to a more open spot," Kasia pointed out.

"The field operations manual says to ambush them, so that's what we're going to do," Rima snapped. "Now grow some ovaries and shut up about the odds of us winning."

Kasia couldn't remember a time her heart was beating more loudly. She followed Rima up over a fallen tree trunk and behind some ferns and waited. The rain kept pouring while the puddle underneath the nearby fern rippled ever faster. They were still hiding when James' yoki came within a few hundred yards, the sound of vegetation crushing not far behind.

James rounded a nearby tree, gasping, clutching his bloodied right arm, his sword planted on his back. James kept running straight towards them when something enormous rounded the tree with a massive thud.

Kasia whispered in fear to Rima, "That's a Dragonkin?"

It was enormous, even dwarfed by the Redwoods as it was. It stood over three stories tall, and was covered in scales and fin-like spikes on its back. Its head was massive and oblong, with fearsome orange eyes, an almost-human nose, and a horrific set of jagged teeth. Its neck and chest were protected by bony protrusions.

"Now that's one big bastard," Rima whispered in awe.

James was still running, but abruptly tripped a mere thirty meters from them as the Dragonkin rushed towards him. The ground shook as its enormous legs struck the ground. James just dodged a massive slash of its long arms, each tipped with three long, lethal claws. Kasia couldn't bear to watch, so she sprang prematurely from her hiding spot. James had just climbed to his feet when the creature readied for another attack.

She grabbed James, and then jumped over the log that Rima was hiding behind. The Dragonkin took a half-step back at her appearance, and seemed to move rather like the dinosaurs of myth. James stood up alongside her, gasping, as the massive Dragonkin reared back. It opened its enormous mouth and roared its defiance, a sound so deafening it blocked out the thunder all around.

It charged towards them as James split to one side and Kasia split to the other. The Dragonkin swung itself around, its massive tail sweeping outwards. Kasia barely ducked underneath as the tail smashed a cluster of small fir trees behind her. James had dodged by jumping over the tail entirely, they both turned, hoping to find the Dragonkin turned with its vulnerable back to them.

Kasia stopped short; a second Dragonkin had just jumped over a fallen log into the small clearing, roaring.

"Oh shit," Kasia cursed.

The two Dragonkin spread out while Rima kept hiding. Each of them paced around to either side of James and her, snorting, sniffing the air, letting out low rumbles, their footfall shaking the ground. James rushed closer to her, each of them keeping an eye on one of the plodding monsters as they circled through the trees.

"They're hunting us," James muttered, gasping. "They hit the camp and killed everyone. Noir wounded the one you're watching before it caught and ate her."

Kasia felt a primal fear as she noticed a nasty slash across the right shoulder of the Smok watching her. The spikes protecting where the right arm joined the body were gone, replaced by a bloody, oozing red scar. The creature's mouth was covered in blood, and even in the rain Kasia could smell the awful stink of death it carried.

The two monsters charged at them, roaring, the ground shaking as Kasia and James dodged dozens of smash and slash attempts, dozens of trees and logs smashed into splinters. Kasia unfortunately had a splinter pierce her arm, and was frantically taking it out when she noticed the tail incoming. It hit her, sending her airborne through the woods a terrifying distance. She landed in the midst of mud, and desperately climbed to her feet.

The Dragonkin was running after her now, having extricated the claws that had caught in a tree. Unfortunately the mud she was stuck in was difficult to get out of, and her doom looked certain as it approached. Suddenly Rima deftly ran up alongside the Dragonkin and jumped. Rima cleared the dangerous back spikes, landed, and then promptly slashed through its vertebrae.

The Dragonkin shuddered as the blade slashed through its spine, letting out a guttural rumble of pain. Its legs stumbled as Rima jumped off, its body smashing through a small log as it fell. Its head hit the ground last, the body sliding forward as Kasia watched in alarm. She screamed out in pain as the head crushed her left leg, pinning her to the ground.

Rima ran over, "Hold on, let me get his head off you!"

"Never mind me," Kasia shouted in pain, her left leg bones audibly snapping. "Help out James before it's too late!"

Kasia could just make out, as Rima ran off, the enormous silhouette of the other Dragonkin roaring in rage as it noticed its slain compatriot. James was gasping for breath now, his movements ragged from exhaustion. Kasia gathered herself in preparation of pulling herself free, as only her lower leg was pinned under the dead Smok's massive, spiky head.

James jumped out of the way of the surviving Dragonkin's latest slash, but as he did so it turned. James was swatted out of mid-air like a fly, being sent out of Kasia's vision, his yoki vanishing. He was either dead or he was unconscious, leaving just Rima to face the larger of the Dragonkin they'd been facing. Kasia pushed hard and pulled out her left leg, now badly broken, free. She desperately tried to heal the numerous fractures as Rima ran towards the Smok.

The fight was almost like a ballet, as Rima dodged, ducked, swatted blows away, and jumped over sweeping tail attacks. However the creature's energy and fury were undeniable and nearly a half hour into their fight Kasia noticed Rima tiring. Rima was gasping for breath, having run an incredible distance already over a soggy, misshapen, undulating forest floor. Rima dodged one slash only to have another follow.

Her sword went flying, out of easy reach. The draconic monster bellowed triumphantly as it stood over Rima's sword.

It astonishingly even spoke in a deep, rumbling tone, no doubt gloating to Rima, "Dies ist das Ende für Sie, Hexe!"

Rima ran towards where James undoubtedly was, but the Dragonkin cut her off. It had almost cornered her against the damaged trunk of a large Redwood tree. Rima jumped to the side of its horizontal slash, its claws gouging deep furrows in the trunk. The storm overhead unleashed a particularly howling wind as Rima kept running. Kasia noticed Rima was running back towards her sword, now unprotected by the Smok.

The Dragonkin bellowed as the claws of its right hand were stuck deep into a Redwood's trunk. Rima grabbed the sword and hurried back, her breathing ragged. The monstrous creature saw her coming and compensated by swinging its spike-topped tail at her. Rima ducked underneath one swing, and then jumped over another, readying herself for the jump.

Unfortunately the creature freed its arm, the tree groaning as it did so. A gust of wind pushed the Redwood towards the Dragonkin far overhead. As it leaned, the trunk creaked, and audible snaps emanated from its trunk. These were almost inaudible as the crash of nearby lightning lit the clearing and its thunder deafened Kasia. A final last gust of wind hit the Redwood's upper canopy, and with a horrific snap, its damaged bottom trunk snapped.

"Rima!"

Rima saw the massive tree coming down and ran to the side with all remaining energy. The Dragonkin barely had time to turn its head and see its doom coming before the massive trunk crushed it underneath. The massive tree trunk smashed down another lesser tree as it fell, its impact upon the ground tremendous. Kasia could feel the ground quake at the force of it all.

She hobbled up, wincing in pain as she put weight down upon her left leg. Kasia found Rima nearby, panting in exhaustion, lying upon the ground smiling.

"Are you ok?"

Rima laughed as the rain poured down upon them both, "Am I alright? I might be if you give me half a day to catch my breath."

Kasia groaned, "Oh no, where's James?"

Rima shouted, "Wait Kasia!"

Kasia hobbled towards where she'd last seen James as Rima got up. Kasia parted a large stand of ferns to find James sprawled out at the edge of a clearing. She sped up, grunting in pain as she raced to James' side. He looked dead, but a quick check found his pulse still beating.

"Oh thank goodness," Kasia exclaimed as Rima ran up, her armor covered in mud.

"How the hell did he manage not to hit a tree?"

"Sheer luck or maybe it was his God looking out for him," Kasia sighed.

"Bullshit," Rima laughed. "If his God were looking out for him, he wouldn't have been sent airborne for nearly a hundred meters."

Kasia shook James' head lightly, but he didn't wake up.

"Rima, give me some of that strong salt you carry," Kasia demanded.

Rima handed it over, and then Kasia placed it under James' nose. He breathed in, and suddenly his eyes opened, though he looked dazed.

"Oww, my head," James exclaimed. "Kasia? Rima? I'm not in hell am I?"

"You're still alive James," Kasia sighed, "and you're darn lucky to be alive too."

"Wait, how are we all alive?" James seemed incredulous, so he pressed on, "Wasn't there a pair of Smokowcy trying to kill and eat us?"

"Rima got one, and the other one got crushed when a tree fell on it," Kasia explained.

James eyes widened in surprise, "They're both dead? Wait till High Command hears about this! Of course they'll probably just stick us on a more dangerous front instead."

"I'll go get James' sword," Rima informed them.

Kasia turned back to James, "Are you hurt anywhere? Is anything broken?"

James laughed, "I expect I'll find out when the adrenaline wears off. Kasia, I wanted to thank you for saving my life back there and standing up to Noir for me, heaven rest her soul. You're the first slayer who's ever had sympathy for me, and for that I'm very grateful I met you."

Kasia, concerned for James, asked, "Can you walk?"

James moved his feet gingerly, "Well, maybe a little. I've got something stuck against my back. Can you reach it?"

Kasia clambered down upon her knees, searching along his back with one hand.

"It's a bit lower," James instructed.

Her hand roamed closer to his butt, and abruptly James seized her with both arms and rolled over on top of her, his greater weight holding her down.

Kasia objected, "James, stop it!"

"I'm afraid I'm not satisfied with just thanking you with words, Kasia," James lovingly sighed.

"Wait Jam—"

James cut off her protests by smothering her mouth with a passionate kiss as he pressed his body and armor against hers. She struggled to resist, but James' passion was immeasurable and her will to resist wasn't all that strong. He flipped up his armored tassets below the waist, and suddenly she felt a warm, pleasant bulge press against her clothed womanhood down below.

"I leave you guys alone for two minutes and you're trying to bang each other already?"

James jumped off as Kasia got up to find Rima walking into the clearing with James' sword, the rain still pouring down.

* * *

Dietrich sighed as the story finished. She'd originally imagined Princess Kasia to be some sort of unimportant person in the story of the Imperial Family. But, as Princess Kasia had told the story in her pleasant voice, Dietrich began to realize Kasia might have more influence than she'd imagined. It turned out Kasia and Rima were the original Romanows, not Empress Katarzyna, who'd joined the family much later. Rima was now heir to the imperial throne. Dietrich realized Rima's presence alongside the empress when she arrived meant that Wenceslaus was of far greater importance to the Imperial Family than they wanted to admit.

The story had lasted a good hour when Princess Kasia finished, and in spite of Wenceslaus' orders to be wary, Dietrich found herself drawn in. Kasia had an immensely interesting life, and was more important to Romanow family history than Dietrich ever imagined. It was just as Kasia had laughingly described James' attempt to "thank" her that Dietrich spoke up.

"Your Imperial Highness, I don't mean to pry too much, but are you engaged to Lieutenant Commander Havel?"

Princess Kasia sighed, "James and I had a falling out some years ago. I guess you could say we love each other but we can't stand living with one another."

"I saw the Lieutenant Commander proposition the Cesarzowa and—"

"Yes, I guess you could say there are some strong reasons for our love/hate relationship," Kasia sighed. "Much like the Cesarzowa has a love/hate relationship with men like Wenceslaus."

"I don't understand what you mean Your Highness," Dietrich admitted, crossing her legs.

"The note Wenceslaus sent demanded that Cesarzowa Katarzyna free former Prince Alexander of the Comnenus Royal Family, pardon the one hundred slayers who killed their comrades in favor of the ex-high command, and give up her judicial powers in exchange for your little gift and something else," Princess Kasia explained, sounding exasperated.

Dietrich repeated, "Something else?"

Princess Kasia smirked, "There's no way the Cesarzowa could have considered his demands in exchange for just your knowledge. If he'd done that I imagine the Her Supreme Imperial Majesty would be sending out assassination orders now to reward his disrespect and insubordination. Of course Wenceslaus must have known that, so he offered her his hand in marriage."

Dietrich shouted, "He did WHAT?"

"You seem very upset about his offer, Baroness. I admit I would not much like it if James were to have gotten engaged to the Cesarzowa either," Princess Kasia commented.

"Of course not, Major General Wenceslaus and I have a professional relationship," Dietrich said, sounding even to her own ears like she didn't quite believe it.

"It's only natural, you must understand," Princess Kasia continued. "Wenceslaus is one of only two male slayers more lethal than the Cesarzowa in combat. The other of course is General Sergei Djugashvili, who just yesterday sent news that he'd pacified a rebellion on her behalf. Not only that, but he even sent her gifts and made no demands. I don't envy you Baroness; helping Wenceslaus win over the Cesarzowa is no easy task the way he behaves."

"Well, I've got a meeting to attend to very soon, but we should get you settled first Baroness," Princess Kasia stated. "Cesarzowa Katarzyna just this past week made me Imperial Minister of the Interior. Given how many problems the empire has, you can imagine how overwhelming the job is."

"Your Imperial Highness, I hate to ask, but does my position pay? I'm short on money you see," Dietrich admitted.

Kasia smiled, "Of course. I can't have my assistant being disrespected, so you'll be given the noble rank of Countess and paid a substantial salary. Would one hundred thousand Imperial Krones a year be adequate?"

Dietrich felt her jaw slackening; she was so shocked at the staggering figure she couldn't manage to speak.

"Oh, well if that's a little low, I'll just bump that up to one hundred and fifty thousand Imperial Krones a year," Kasia offered, clearly not understanding Dietrich's speechlessness.

"I…I'm honored you value me so much," Dietrich at last managed to say.

"You're welcome," Princess Kasia smiled. Your work starts in two days. You'll meet me here at 6 AM sharp."

"Understood Your Highness," Dietrich acknowledged.

"You're dismissed Countess," Princess Kasia declared.

* * *

Kasia was watching Countess Dietrich Tuluzy's figure walk through the palace grounds from her quarters' massive balcony. Dietrich, despite possessing a boy's name in the tongue of the Dragonkin, seemed a very sweet girl and very, very dedicated to her mission. She was walking back to her desk when Crown Princess Rima entered, dressed similarly but in even grander fashion.

A pair of Silver Guards, including James, Kasia noticed, escorted Rima into the quarters. The courtesan didn't even get a chance to properly introduce Rima when she spoke up.

"I don't like this at all," Rima stated loudly. "We're playing a very dangerous game here with Sergei and Wenceslaus."

Kasia looked over her more shapely, voluptuous stepsister, "Yes, and I seem to recall it was you who insisted on the appointment of this bizarrely named Dietrich as my personal assistant. You can hardly call yourself disinterested Rima."

"I don't pretend to be otherwise," Rima confessed. "I just don't like the choices involved in this whole adventure. Why does the Imperial succession have to be such an active topic?"

"Probably because men like James, Sergei and Wenceslaus are making it that way," Princess Kasia pointed out, a remark at which James flinched. "Sergei and Wenceslaus will never accept the other as emperor, so no matter what the Cesarzowa will have to kill one when she chooses the other."


	5. Chapter 4: The Troubles of Dietrich

**Chapter 4: The Troubles of Dietrich**

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**Excerpt from "The History of the Romanow Empire"**

**"The Romanow Empire in its earliest days did not appear to have good chances of survival, despite its self-declared empress' predictions otherwise. Empress Katarzyna Romanowa was confronted with horrific problems days after her coronation. One of those problems was that the Grand Alliance immediately invaded in the name of "restoring" the Alliance of Nations' former elite families to power. Their understanding of the situation was poor; Katarzyna had not just overthrown the elite families of High Command, but annihilated their ranks so that none could lead the resistance to her rule.**

**The Grand Alliance's invasion however was stymied by their enemy's frontier armies, which uniformly switched allegiances to the new empress. This was accomplished by commanders acquiescing to Katarzyna's rule and orders, or by Katarzyna's silver-eyed and human supporters killing commanders and officers loyal to the former High Command. Within a week the entire frontier was in Katarzyna's grasp.**

**The same was not true of her self-declared empire's interior. Of the major cities, only Visegrad was securely under the empress' control. The rest were either in chaos, being openly contested between imperial upstarts and alliance loyalists, or in open revolt. When the news spread of Katarzyna's coup, parts of all fourteen countries in the Alliance of Nations revolted.**

**The Grand Alliance liked their chances of victory, but they saw their advances beaten back by Katarzyna's commanders. With her frontiers secured, Katarzyna struck out from Visegrad. She was soon confronted by opponents on all sides who cut her off from the frontier armies. These alliance loyalists and rebels outnumbered the new empress three to one and were confident of victory and restoration of the alliance. Unfortunately their armies had not linked up, and Katarzyna's tactics of divide-and-conquer and forced marches annihilated the armies in short order.**

**With Visegrad and the Kingdom of Comnenus' territory secured, the empress steadily and surely destroyed internal opposition. Having never experienced Katarzyna's "total war" tactics before, her aristocratic and rebel opposition couldn't adjust tactics to match Katarzyna's. By six months into her reign, the only large city that had yet to fall to Katarzyna was that of Praha. With an eye on consolidating power, Katarzyna prepared to capture Praha…"**

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"Hrabina?"

Dietrich's eyes snapped open at hearing the word most often used for "Countess" within the Romanow Empire. Her eyes blinked open to find crimson-colored walls and wood floors about her, with a simple four-candle gold chandelier lighting the room. She turned right to find a Redwood lobby desk with a gray-haired man behind it.

Dietrich stood up to ask, "So, did you find a vacant room?"

"No, I'm sorry Hrabina, I appreciate your awkward situation," the hotel receptionist apologized. "We don't have any rooms available, for either fifty Imperial Krones or anything above that. There is however one exception that I wouldn't ordinarily recommend for someone on a budget…"

"Yes?"

The receptionist handed over a paper, "It's the Ducal Suite, available for the price of—"

Dietrich gasped while reading the price, "1500 Imperial Krones a night? What do you think I am, made of gold?"

"You said yourself that you will be soon formally made a Countess, and that position comes with a very healthy salary. Surely a bank would sign off on a line of credit for—"

"No, I am fairly sure the experience could not be worth 1500 a night," Dietrich reasoned with the receptionist.

"I assure you Hrabina; the experience is well worth it. The Ducal Suite comes with marble and oak floors, redwood furniture and cabinets, a full-time kitchen staff, ballroom, master bedroom, master bath, indoor plumbing, and for our silver-eyed female guests, it comes with a complimentary male escort service. We at the Imperial Romanow Hotel chain pride ourselves on our new services catered specifically to the tastes of silver-eyed clientele," the receptionist bragged.

Dietrich sighed; all along the journey to Visegrad hotel and innkeepers had been bidding to outdo one another for silver-eyed customers like her. It was due entirely to the change in ruling elite since the end of the Alliance of Nations. A year ago silver-eyed officers were once only respected as monstrous fighters; now they were part of the Romanow Empire's governing class. With the change in elites and Empress Katarzyna's hold on power steadily becoming more permanent and less tenuous, attitudes towards silver-eyed slayers had changed.

They were given preference almost everywhere they went, although recalcitrant merchants who hated the empress' crushing of nationalist revolts did on occasion offer some attitude. Amongst the things the owners of hotels learned was that many silver-eyed slayers had a very hedonistic sense of enjoyment. In her two month journey to the city of Visegrad, she'd lost track of how many times hotel owners had obsequiously tried to please her supposed sexual desires. She was not one to indulge her fantasies, even if a human escort carried no risks of disease or pregnancy for her.

"No thanks," Dietrich firmly resisted.

"I'm sorry to hear that, but are you sure? We currently have three out of the four members of the Imperial Family residing in the city. Chances are very high you will not be able to find another room," the receptionist pointed out.

"I'm sure something will work out," Dietrich said.

Dietrich sighed as she walked out of yet another of Visegrad's hotels, this being the fifteenth of the day she'd visited. It was already past mid-day, and she'd seen Princess Kasia not more than five hours prior. She'd purposely skipped resting for two nights in a row so she could keep traveling and not deplete her finances.

"Damn you for being a cheapskate, Wenceslaus," Dietrich cursed as she walked out yet again onto Visegrad's flawless cobblestone boulevards.

She walked up to her travel companion; an older but nicely docile gray horse named Gooral. Strapped to either side of him were her black travel cases, each locked tight. She was still in the formal white dress from the morning meeting with the empress and the later one with Princess Kasia. She'd been saving it for this very day for two months. Unfortunately, given the day's heat, she was beginning to sweat through it in the armpits.

This would not be a problem if she could find a hotel with laundry services, but unfortunately she couldn't find a hotel room she could afford. She rode Gooral across town and arrived at the Grand Visegrad Hotel. That too was booked solid, aside from a ridiculously expensive suite going for 2,000 Imperial Krones a night. Naturally the hotel receptionist announced that the room came with six escorts for her "each and every need".

Dietrich ignored this temptation and left the hotel, and began to think about her main problem: money. She was very close to being broke, as Wenceslaus in his "infinite" foresight had seen to allow her a travel budget of only 1,000 Imperial Krones. She ran out of his travel money within three weeks, and had fallen back on her savings built up since being named a Baroness two months prior. Given the aristocratic rank's salary of a mere 5,000 Krones a year, she was fast running out of her savings as well.

She'd glanced into her trunk upon leaving the latest hotel and frowned, "Rats," Dietrich sighed. "I only have 350 Imperial Krones?"

She spent hours checking the rest of Visegrad, but the receptionist she'd talked to was right. The entire capital city was booked solid, and after checking the thirtieth hotel of the day, she was about to give up.

"Why couldn't you just give me more money Wenceslaus?" Dietrich complained to no one but herself, her stomach gurgling from hunger.

She bought herself a nice dinner from a local bakery and quickly finished it. She was washing up in a new public bathroom when she noticed something. There was a piece of white paper stuck down her v-shaped dress' cleavage, which she quickly removed. It contained directions to an address, although no name was left upon it.

"Ah hell," Dietrich said, noticing the sun setting behind the imperial palace on the Visegrad River's opposite bank. "I guess it can't hurt to try this…"

It took a little while to navigate the gargantuan city's inner core, where the address was located. Dietrich yanked Gooral's reins to the right and found a very exclusive street guarded by its own set of walls and a gatehouse. Dietrich glanced at the note and back at the guard staring expectantly at her from the gatehouse. She turned the note over to find some words.

"The password to get into the gated community is "Colonel"," it read.

"Just Colonel?"

Dietrich looked at the note dubiously, but a glance towards the very nearby riverbank showed the sun fast setting.

"I might as well," Dietrich sighed.

She gave the password to the guard, who promptly saluted and directed her to the end of the gated street. All of the street's residences were located alongside the river to her left, while to the right was the wall separating the community from the outside. All of the residences were enormous, each a monument to conspicuous consumption, replete with gold-plated gates, granite property walls, marble pathways, and immense manors.

She arrived at the address to find the least ostentatious of the residences. It had a simple iron gate, its yard bordered by well-maintained red brick walls. A nice cobblestone lane led past the gate, the residence itself small enough to be mostly hidden by fir trees. A single butler dressed in fine black pants and a frilly white shirt appeared, walking up to the gate.

He looked puzzled by her appearance, "May I help you?"

Dietrich gulped, as she did not dare tell him she'd come all this way on a whim. Especially when that whim was based on a note dropped surreptitiously down her dress's cleavage. She noticed a final set of instructions on the note.

"The butler's name is Miles. Tell him you're there for dinner with J.T.," the note read.

"Hi Miles, I'm here to see J.T. for dinner," Dietrich said, crossing her fingers.

"Oh, I didn't know my master had a guest this evening," Miles apologized.

Miles was a middle-aged man, which Dietrich noticed as he opened the gate for her. She got off Gooral and walked down the lane past a well-tended yard full of grass and rimmed by hedges. The lane meandered through the trees a short way, then suddenly was clear of the trees. Standing before Dietrich was a romanticized form of a castle, complete with a large grand keep. Its keep was topped by a spire, as were its other, smaller turrets.

Its façade was in fine granite, its sides decorated by several arched windows. Dietrich walked underneath the house's front carriageway and into its quaint inner courtyard. Walking straight towards her from the fake castle's grand entrance was a very familiar Jaroslaw Tusk.

"I should have known," Dietrich muttered as the jubilant and handsome Tusk walked out.

"My dearest Baroness," Tusk smiled, "I am delighted you could make it for dinner. I wasn't sure if you'd forgive my manner of inviting you, but I assure you that dinner will not disappoint."

Dietrich bit back the temptation to tell him she'd only come out of desperation. The last thing Tusk needed to know, Dietrich reasoned, was that she was desperate. It'd probably encourage his flirtatious behavior were he to find out. However a part of her was glad to know someone actually had an interest about her and not just her connection to Wenceslaus.

Tusk showed her the house before dinner, which was very well laid-out and decorated. Dinner turned out to be surprisingly nice, with Tusk serving her much reduced portions of every dish exactly like she wanted. He may have been an outrageous flirt, but he didn't lack for courage. She could not think of another man so bold as to drop his dinner invitation note down a girl's cleavage. She didn't reveal her dire financial situation, but her weakness to flattery was not helping in the situation.

"I heard a rumor you were promoted in rank to Countess, Dietrich," Tusk said.

Dietrich blushed, "Ah well, yes I was."

"I knew when I heard that you would appreciate some clothes appropriate for the occasion," Tusk clapped.

Abruptly three trunks were brought into the rather cozy kitchen by three female servants. They contained everything she could've needed; gowns, dresses, combat uniforms, armor, rider's outfits, boots, high heels, dress shoes, and more.

"Oh my goodness," Dietrich smiled in delight, taking out a perfectly sized red ball gown. "How in the world did you know my size from just one glance?"

"Male intuition my dear," Tusk said, grabbing her hand.

She didn't shirk from his touch; after all, her fashion sense was dubious, and as Princess Kasia's assistant, the workload was likely to be high. She doubted she would have much time for shopping. Most of all she appreciated his generosity, even if there was a selfish interest.

"So you like it then my lady?"

"I'm surprised," Dietrich remarked. "I thought all men were cheapskates like Wenceslaus."

"Nonsense," Tusk laughed, "I am curious why you call the kind Wenceslaus a cheapskate."

"Well he is," Dietrich complained. "He gave me one horse, two trunks, a thousand Imperial Krones and no help to get to Visegrad."

Tusk looked sympathetically at her, "I'm truly sorry you had to go through so much. I hope my gifts are adequate. They are aren't they?"

Dietrich smiled at his anxiety, and kissed him on a cheek in appreciation.

"They're more than I could have ever hoped for," Dietrich sighed, grateful. "But were they not dreadfully expensive?"

"Don't worry about expense," Jaroslaw reassured. "I helped the empress' officers take control of the military here in Visegrad after the coup. She compensated me for life in thanks for my actions."

"That must have been an incredible story," Dietrich murmured approvingly, sipping yet another bottle of wine.

"It was indeed," Tusk agreed, and then slipped into storytelling.

Jaroslaw Tusk was also a great storyteller, his battles and tales vivid in their retelling. He was also very interested in hearing about her as she sat opposite him across the oak table.

"I'm surprised the empress didn't respond to Wenceslaus, but I understand her resentment," Tusk remarked. "Did you know Wenceslaus very well before he sent you off?"

Dietrich's faced soured.

"Oh dear, did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," Dietrich reassured Tusk. "It's nothing, really."

"But you don't look happy my lady," Tusk pointed out. "What could Wenceslaus have possibly have done to so upset you?"

Dietrich set down her fork holding the steaming Linguine upon her plate, "He sent me out here without saying why, and he didn't give me enough money. I can't even find a cheap hotel to spend the night in and I've just been appointed a Countess. What sort of Countess spends a night on the streets while waiting for her salary to come in?"

"None should," Tusk agreed. "You wouldn't mind spending the night here would you?"

* * *

She blinked her eyes open to see a large window looking out upon the imperial palace, the morning light just beginning to creep over the horizon. Beneath that was the Visegrad River, which was choked with boat traffic and flowing languidly past in the manor's semi-circular grand window. Dietrich twisted her head and laid it back down atop Tusk's hairy but well-muscled chest as he lay sleeping beneath her.

It might have been her anger with Wenceslaus' marriage proposal to the empress that had made her more rash than usual. Or perhaps it was the fact that she'd drunk six bottles of wine without filtering most of their alcohol from her blood. Wenceslaus would not much like any of those excuses, as he'd told her to keep away from any and all romantic liaisons. She did not much care for his advice on such matters anymore, especially not after his stinging marriage proposal to the empress. The pragmatic nature of Wenceslaus' marriage proposal was a huge disappointment to her, given his nature as an otherwise very pure and idealistic individual.

Perhaps out of a sense of revenge, she'd given Tusk's dinner proposition a serious consideration. She wound up sleeping in the guest bedroom that night, but not before kissing Tusk in thanks for the thousands of Imperial Krones in clothes she'd received. Tusk spent the next day showing her the city, talking about the latest events in the Romanow Empire, and as always, flirting with her. A thought struck her when Jaroslaw was talking about the imperial palace across the river.

Dietrich questioned, "What do you know about the Imperial Family?"

Tusk smiled, wearing his Imperial Guard best, "I know things, but I can't divulge them."

"What about the empress? Why would someone like her seriously consider Wenceslaus as a husband? He's not a ruthless man like Sergei Djugashvili, so—"

"Dietrich my dear," Tusk sighed while glancing at the palace, "You should know I cannot tell you anything personal about the empress. Her Supreme Imperial Majesty prefers her privacy more than any other member of the Imperial Family."

Dietrich frowned, "So that's why she wears a veil over her face?"

"Most likely," Tusk replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

Dietrich didn't object to Jaroslaw's arm, knowing he was the key she was looking for to understanding the Imperial Family and helping Wenceslaus.

"What about the rest of the family? Surely you can tell me about them, can't you?"

Jaroslaw sighed, "It seems you're hell bent on being the death of me."

"No, no, of course not," Dietrich reassured, kissing him on the cheek, "just tell me what won't get you into trouble."

"Well, it's public knowledge that Crown Princess Rima is a prickly personality. The third-in-line to the throne, Princess Bastia, is nicknamed "the Imperial Bulldog" because she is fiercely protective of the empress. Then there's Princess Kasia, last-in-line to the throne…"

"What about Kasia?"

"I hate to tell you this Countess, but I'm afraid your future boss is a workaholic. She usually works twenty or eighteen hour days, she's impatient and relentless, and if she weren't a worse combatant than the Crown Princess or Princess Bastia, she'd be the heir," Tusk explained.

"What do you mean she'd be the heir? She's the least important of the—"

Tusk grabbed her by the shoulders, "Dietrich, I know you're here to help Wenceslaus, just like everyone else in the Imperial Court. I'm sure you would prefer being made Crown Princess Rima's aide, but don't for a minute treat Princess Kasia as if she's unimportant."

"So I'm supposed to be grateful for being put out to pasture and—"

"You're NOT being put out to pasture. Princess Kasia is a genius, and she's the empress' favorite, not Bastia," Tusk explained. "Oh god, I should not have just said that—"

"It's okay," Dietrich whispered as Jaroslaw put his hands on his face. "I promise I won't tell Wenceslaus."

Tusk groaned, "If you just hang around me like this, people will talk, and I'll be—"

"I think I can think of a way to ease their suspicions," Dietrich hinted with arched eyebrows.

"Like what?"

Dietrich sniffed in amusement as the street traffic bustled around them, "A couple, what else? I need your understanding of what's going on in the Imperial Family, and I'm pretty sure you'll like what I give in exchange."

Tusk's blue eyes lit up, "You're not suggesting—"

Dietrich wrapped her arms around his neck, "You can have all of me if you help."

Dietrich noticed the man who had been surreptitiously trailing them and decided to help sell the spy on their liaison. She brought Jaroslaw's handsome head down and kissed him with as much passion as she could act out. Then, with Tusk rather seeming to enjoy this act, they headed back.

Dietrich started noticing the dozens of suspicious men and women around by the time they arrived, and continued the act even as they entered Colonel Tusk's gated community. Given that spies were all around, it was important she sold them on this relationship. Thankfully Tusk's prior flirtation with her at the imperial palace's gates made this a much easier task.

It was when they arrived at Tusk's house and she noticed Miles nearly eavesdropping upon them as they walked up the grand staircase. Dietrich thought Miles might even be a spy. If Tusk had a spy within his house, staying here could be perilous. On the other hand there was really no other place she could afford to stay. Fooling Miles would unfortunately require a more immediate and physical solution and, given Tusk's tendency to drop secrets on accident, might loosen his lips faster.

They reached the top floor, where the guest bedroom's door was to the left, opposite the master bedroom's doors. With the suspicious butler Miles standing by, Dietrich knew she had to act before she wanted to, before Tusk had even earned it. She hurried to Tusk's side as Miles watched, walking with Tusk to the master bedroom's doors.

"Oh Miles," Tusk snapped at the butler, "Have dinner brought up to us in my bedroom, and send up a dozen wine bottles."

"Yes sir," Miles acknowledged, disappearing downstairs.

"That was quick of you," Dietrich complimented. "You noticed how we were being followed by spies the whole time, didn't you?"

"It was hard to miss," Tusk admitted. "Miles was also behaving oddly, but I can't just get rid of him. If I hire another butler our friends may get suspicious of my motives. I hope you know I won't be divulging anything other than public knowledge of the Imperial Family."

"Of course," Dietrich agreed, lying, as she knew it was just a matter of time till Tusk let another important fact drop around her.

The master bedroom had a nice low Redwood table before its immense two-story fireplace. They sat down upon the nearby black sofa just as a number of female servers entered the room with food. It was an enjoyable dinner, with Tusk flirting with her, just like their "relationship" required. Miles entered with dessert as Tusk planted a kiss upon her cheek with great timing.

"Just set it down on the table Miles," Tusk instructed.

Miles walked through the tapestry and painting-festooned master bedroom while sparing them a single glance. He exited quietly via large oak doors. The room itself also featured bookcases rimming the room's edge on the elevated second level. Arched windows let in light, none more so than the grand window that looked out upon the imperial palace and the Visegrad River. It was nearly the width of the room, having an immense semi-circular shape.

Dietrich was downing her fifth wine bottle when Tusk got up, yawning as he stretched.

"You can sleep on the sofa if you want Countess," Tusk suggested.

Dietrich looked over his black with yellow uniform, which made Jaroslaw look very fetching, especially with his long brown boots. She heard the sounds of servants passing by the doors outside and frowned.

Tusk sighed, "Is something the matter my lovely Countess?"

"I think we're going to have to sell people on us being a pair," Dietrich sighed.

Tusk seemed a little confused, "Sell people on us being a pair?"

"Hold on," Dietrich said, grabbing another wine bottle. "I think I'm going to need another drink to pull this off."

She downed the entire wine bottle, the booze really beginning to make her feel buzzed and somewhat uncoordinated. That would help her forget what she regrettably going to have to do. She was wearing a red with white woman's riding outfit Tusk had given her, complete with fine white hat topped with a red feather. Its bottom featured a false red skirt, tight white trousers, and lady's boots. The top had puffy white sleeves over the upper arms and enhanced her assets with a push-up bra. Below was a white cotton sleeve that gave the outfit a lovely contrast. It was an outfit Dietrich thought surely made her next act a lot easier.

Dietrich got up and wrapped her arms around Tusk's waist, pulling him against her.

"We're going to have to get physical to sell them on us being a pair," Dietrich said.

Tusk looked down into her eyes, "Are you sure about this? Beautiful as you are, I've never slept with a girl within two days of meeting her."

Dietrich's eyebrows arched in polite bemusement, "Oh really, then what were you doing inviting me to dinner by dropping that note down my cleavage?"

"I'll admit I saw you before you arrived at the palace and wrote it, but…"

Dietrich unzipped the back of the riding outfit, letting it suggestively bare her shoulders.

"Quit stalling and make love to me," Dietrich snapped.

A moment later she felt something warm swelling and pushing up against Tusk's clothing as they embraced and kissed. At first Tusk took things slowly, merely dropping his uniform's coat and undershirt off to reveal his sexy chest. She bared her breasts and let the outfit's top fall off to reveal her lower body corset and plenty of skin.

Tusk slowly coaxed her back to the master bedroom's immense white-sheeted, four-poster canopy bed. He grabbed her by the waist and placed her upon the bed. He soon tore the lower half of her outfit as his lust increased evidenced by a growing bulge in his trousers. These she unbelted, and then pulled off, beginning to enjoy the moment herself.

"Oh my god," Dietrich gasped, seeing Tusk's large masculinity rise clear of his pants.

She didn't have long to wait, as Tusk lay down atop her, and suddenly something large and hot pressed pleasurably and painfully into her. She gasped as they embraced, and then wrapped her legs reflexively around his waist. Tusk took to thrusting with relish, which Dietrich accepted with enjoyment, no longer regretting her decision to bed him. Eventually the pleasure had been too much for both of them, and with a thrilling climax, the night came to a very pleasant end.

Thus she was waking up now atop him, no longer wondering why many silver-eyed females were willing to fight over males. Dietrich had immensely enjoyed the night, and hoped their "false relationship" would continue to be as physically enthralling as last night. Given their groans, moans, panting, involuntary exclamations and sexy speech last night, she was fairly sure there would be no questioning of the relationship's nature.

It made for the perfect cover to investigate the Imperial Family while working as one of their aides. Eventually, through investigations and Tusk slipping up, she'd find out how to sell the empress on marrying Wenceslaus, even if a part of her hated the idea. A moment later, having decided on this course of action, she got off Tusk and the bed. She washed up in the master bedroom's attached master bathroom, which had the costly luxury of heated running water. She was drying off with a towel when Jaroslaw Tusk entered the bathroom in completely distracting nudity.

"Morning," Tusk said, Dietrich's eyes seemingly stuck to his waist region.

"Jaroslaw, you know I've got work later," Dietrich sighed.

"I understand," Tusk replied. "Miles just knocked on my door. He said my regiment has been ordered to leave the city."

"What?"

Dietrich rushed to Tusk's side, hugging him.

"No, you can't leave. How else am I supposed to have someplace to sleep?"

Tusk smiled, "Don't get so worried my lovely Countess. I was going to let you be Mistress of the House while I was gone. You also lucked out a bit. You have an extra hour today because we've just switched to daylight savings time."

"But I have to get to the imperial palace at 6 AM," Dietrich objected.

"Its 5 AM right now," Tusk pointed out. "You can get to the palace in half an hour and I've got the perfect clothes picked out for you. That leaves us with ten minutes free."

"Then I can get there early," Dietrich reasoned.

Tusk laughed, "I said I was making you Mistress of my House. If you want to stay, you're going to have to be my actual mistress."

"Oh come on, it was all an act," Dietrich objected. "We're just trying to fool the spies—"

Tusk's masculinity swelled and rose as Dietrich realized how close together they were.

"If I'm risking my life for you, you're going to be Mistress of the House," Tusk said, pressing her against the tiled wall. "A Mistress of the House has one duty above all others."

* * *

12 years prior…

"Let me get this straight," the Alliance of Nations' officer in blue and golden yellow said to Kasia, James, and Rima. "You expect me to believe you three somehow survived an attack by two Dragonkin?"

They were in Angkor City, having backtracked on their trail to report the news. They arrived to find bodies being burned, the city's wreckage cleaned up, and tens of thousands of troops working. They were directed to go to the partially wrecked citadel, where they were barely noticed and soon told they didn't have the status to see the commanding officer. Thus they were stuck in a stone room belonging to Captain Toure, a dark-skinned man.

Captain Toure seemed incredulous at their claims of two dead Dragonkin.

"Look," Rima snapped. "The bastards wiped out of the rest of the squad. Commander Noir is dead, and if you want proof, we can fucking show you."

"Rima," Kasia snapped, trying to curtail her stepsister's well-known temper.

"You will shut up immediately," Captain Toure snapped at them, slamming his helmet upon the room's simple wood table.

It's okay Captain," a female voice interjected. "I can deal with our hothead."

A silver-eyed slayer with athletic legs, long, curly strawberry-blond hair, and an unusually well-developed chest walked into the room in black leather and steel armor. She was shorter than both Kasia and her stepsister, and even James had a slight height advantage. Kasia could not recall ever seeing a female slayer prettier than Rima, yet this girl was.

"I'm squad 158's leader, Lillian O'Malley," the pretty warrior said. "If you don't mind Captain Toure, I'll handle debriefing these three."

Toure left, slamming the door, leaving them with the pretty squad commander in the candle-lit room. Kasia was a bit surprised to meet a female warrior with such a large bosom and butt, as most of the most voluptuous girls had died during training. It was, Kasia reflected, an unfortunate result of living a life that rewarded agility, speed, and endurance. The heavy-chested, big-butted girls were perversely overconfident, often due to their looks. Most died in training, their extra weight separating them from their leaner and fleeter-of-foot comrades.

O'Malley sat down in the chair next to the table, motioning for them to sit as another five slayers slipped into the room behind her.

"Have a seat," O'Malley directed them.

They sat down opposite her in three chairs at the room's sole oak table, with James seated between Kasia and Rima.

They told the tale as best they could while Rima's temper steadily dropped. Lillian gave off a far calmer demeanor than that of Noir as she listened politely, asking questions on occasion.

Lillian asked, "So after you cut through the spine of the first of the Smokowcy, what then?"

Kasia butted into the story before Rima got herself in trouble by bragging, "After that Rima fought the other Smok alone for half an hour, because James had been knocked unconscious and I was too injured to help. The Smok missed her with its claws, cut into a Redwood's trunk, and after getting them out the trunk snapped. The tree was hit and felled by a wind burst, and its trunk crushed the Dragonkin underneath it."

Lillian remarked, "You were incredibly lucky to have survived that encounter, Rima Romanowa. So, did I hear you right? You allowed squad leader Noir to follow this trail without reminding her that Smokowcy NEVER travel alone?"

"Squad 159 has never faced Dragonkin in more than seven years," James pointed out. "Plus, our field manuals are out-of-date."

"Well, it seems you've turned what should've been a minor disaster into a rather hard-to-believe success. Ichiro, Rafael," Lillian called out to her squad's two male slayers, both of whom were slightly shorter than even Lillian.

"Yes dear?"

Their address of Lillian seemed bizarre until Kasia realized that Lillian had probably just claimed their male companionship as her commander's right. Neither of the male slayers seemed a catch, with Ichiro almost Lillian's height and leaner than the shorter and more muscular Rafael. They were not remarkably handsome, their faces marred by minor scars and dissymmetry. Lillian on the other hand would've been a trophy wife had she not been hybridized…

"Boys, I want you to backtrack onto this trail these three took, check for evidence, and bring a little back if possible," Lillian instructed.

The two male slayers raced out of the room, appearing very motivated by their squad commander's words. A few of the other females in the squad looked on wistfully as ponytailed Rafael and short-haired Ichiro left, but soon turned their eyes to James, as did Lillian.

"I guess I have no choice but to take command of your squad's survivors," Lillian pointed out, sighing. "Rima will be second-in-command behind me if your story is true, and James, you can be—"

James jumped into Kasia's lap suddenly, "I'm not leaving my eternal love and the savior of my life," James declared.

Kasia suddenly found herself receiving a passionate kiss from James as she belatedly tried to get him off her lap.

"James, quit being an idiot," Kasia snapped. "I don't want to cause any problems with Commander O'Malley."

James however was not helping matters, not so subtly grabbing her ass and kissing her neck despite her passive resistance of his advances.

"Alright, alright," Lillian sighed, "I didn't mean to break up such a passionate affair. I take it you're fine with this Rima?"

"She can have the frickin' guy, besides, it's not like I'm fighting my stepsister," Rima replied, folding her arms as if affronted that Lillian had suggested James worthy of her interest.

"Well that explains that," Lillian smiled as James hugged Kasia tight despite her blushing embarrassment. "Rima, I was going to ask, but have you ever heard of Victoria McKenzie?"

Rima's eyes lit up as James paused in his harassment of Kasia, "Heard of her? Of course I've heard of her. Commander McKenzie managed to kill three Dragonkin with only minor support from her squad. She's one of only three slayers with more than ten kills of Dragonkin. Why do you ask?"

"I'm her former protégé," Lillian explained. "Two years ago I was promoted out of her squad. If you perform well, I can introduce you to Victoria," Lillian offered.

Rima and Lillian held a rapt conversation, most of Lillian's subordinates remaining silent and meek as mice. A few hours later Ichiro and Rafael's yokis were nearing them as they continued the conversation in a more chillingly memorable spot.

"You two sisters were unlucky," Lillian sympathized as they stood atop the citadel, observing the ruined Angkor City. "Noir may have been half a decade older than me, but she was prone to panic. Her squad was also below average in almost all ways, and mine is still above average, despite our recent losses," Lillian bragged.

Rafael and Ichiro ran out of the nearby stairwell, gasping as they raced to Lillian's side. Ichiro reached her first, dropping a massive tooth at her feet as the squad was shocked silent. Rafael a few seconds later dropped a second jagged, massive tooth before Lillian, which added to the silence.

"Well, well," Lillian smiled, hugging Rima. "It seems I've finally found my squad's second Dragonkin hunter. You'll need another kill to match me though Rima."

* * *

Kasia was listening through the straw in perfect silence, even managing to ignore James' blatantly wandering fingers. They were concealed underneath a huge mat of straw in a large ox-cart. It was how they were sneaking squad 158 into the city of Kagano, which had been recently conquered by the Grand Alliance. Kasia had gotten herself buried near the center of the pile, but James, like always, refused to literally leave her side. He'd buried himself next to her, his hands rubbing her right leg as if he needed physical reassurance of her presence.

Rima had been chosen, given her Siyamese-like attractive appearance, as the squad's ox-cart driver. Rima had taken regular intervals of yoki pills and dyed her hair black to complete the farm girl disguise. Judging by the voices outside, Rima had finally arrived at the gate.

"Hello pretty girl," a male voice rang out, "where are you headed?"

Kasia bit her lip as Rima's voice replied, "The Mitsugawa Stables. Father said they'd pay extra if I was negotiating."

A bunch of male laughs followed, all of them having a thick accent.

"I bet they would. On you go then beautiful," the gate guard replied.

A few minutes later, having endured the constant bumps and bad ride of cobblestones, Rima's voice called out, "Everyone, the coast is clear for you to come out."

It took a good half minute, but eventually Kasia extricated herself from the straw. She found herself, along with the squad's eight other members in a large barn full of straw and ox-carts. Kasia paused in shock to find a young human girl on the cusp of puberty walking towards the squad.

"Umm," the Siyamese girl paused, clearly frightened as James got out his sword.

"It is okay," Lillian said, pushing James' sword down. "She's the daughter of our local contact. Ryuko, be a good girl and find your father," Lillian instructed the girl in Comnenian.

The girl rushed back out of the dusty, light-filled barn as James sheathed his sword, "So, how in the world are we going to accomplish our mission?"

"We won't know until we see the city of Kagano," Lillian admitted. "It's still not that complicated. We're supposed to kill the local Grand Alliance garrison commander, Count Junkers, steal as many of his military documents as we can afterwards, and then escape."

"Yeah, real piece of cake," Rafael spoke up, clearly disliking how Lillian had her right arm around his rival Ichiro's waist. "This city has four-story city walls, a garrison of ten thousand men, and most likely this Count has himself locked in tight in the citadel. I'm willing to bet we'll have to infiltrate the citadel."

"Domo Arii-gato," a male voice interrupted.

They turned to find a middle-aged Siyamese man in dark gray trousers, a white shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. Like all Siyamese men, his eyes were narrower, and his black hair was speckled with gray.

"Mitsugawa-san," Lillian addressed the man, bowing from the waist, "I hope you have the information I need."

"I do indeed," the man replied with a faint smile.

* * *

"Alright," Lillian remarked, adjusting Kasia's makeup just a little with a brush. "That ought to cover your scar enough for us to pull this off."

They were in the midst of preparations to infiltrate the Kagano citadel, which their contact confirmed was where Count Junkers was holed up. To do it they'd scouted his subordinates while using disguises and yoki pills to suppress their silver eye color. Eventually, a week of patient observation later, they'd identified the names and ranks of Count Junkers' aides.

Three of them were identified as their best opportunities, as they conveniently frequented their local contact's tavern together. There was the mustached Leutnant Schatzenkammer, the barrel-chested lady's man Kapitän Speer, and the young, inexperienced Leutnant Opara. The three men liked to visit the Mitsugawa Tavern's call girls.

Having discovered this convenient fact, squad leader Lillian hatched an infiltration plan. Three of them would dress up as tavern call girls, spend some time seducing their targets, drug them with sedative-laced beer, and then strip the men's uniforms. After this the squad's three male slayers would, with some quick tailoring fixes, use the uniforms to infiltrate the citadel. Thankfully James, Ichiro, and Rafael were fluent in the Grand Alliance's standard of military communication, the Drachen Sprache, or draconic language.

Once inside the citadel James, Ichiro and Rafael would kill Count Junkers, steal as many documents as possible, and escape. With the plans made, they turned to selecting the slayers best-suited to seducing their targets. Lillian, given her extraordinary good looks, was assigned to catch the attention of middle-aged Kapitän Speer. Leutnant Schatzenkammer was well-known for his love of Siyamese girls, so Rima, the squad's only female slayer of partial Siyamese descent, was selected.

That left the just-graduated Leutnant Opara, of Bantu descent, who was known for flirting with girls of dark skin. That naturally meant only two female slayers were possible seducers. One was the less-than-charming dark-skinned Nana Zakuani, the other her, the half-Bantu, brown-skinned but "charming" Kasia. Lillian erred on the side of charm, a decision that had James outraged as Lillian covered up Kasia's branding scars.

"This is just great, just great," James sarcastically said to Lillian in the tavern's storeroom. "We can just tell the devil now that we plan on offering him a virgin sacrifice!"

"Give me a break James," Lillian snapped. "We're the Alliance's amoral killers, spies, scouts, infiltrators, hunters and bodyguards. I can't live the "godly life" you desire, neither can Kasia or even you. Besides, Kasia isn't going to lose her virginity if things go to plan, so quit hyperventilating and acting like a mother hen."

James puffed himself up in outrage, "I…am not a mother hen!"

Rima ended his objections by knocking him out with a surprise smack to the head with the flat of her blade. James slumped unconscious to the floor, uninjured, but out cold.

"Hey," Kasia snapped. "You didn't have to be so harsh Rima!"

"Relax Kasia," Lillian interjected. "He'll be fine in half an hour."

Surrounding the nine squad members were countless wooden beer barrels of the tavern's storeroom. Lillian looked awkward in the bare storeroom, as she was wearing an eye-catching red gown. It featured a deep v-cut in the front, baring her large cleavage. Lillian's hair had been shampooed and dyed a rich red. Rima was wearing a strapless dark green gown, her long straight hair dyed black and gleaming from being shampooed.

Kasia looked at her own brilliant yellow dress, which bared her shoulders. It hugged her body tight above the waist, but expanded in a flowing manner below. Kasia noticed with concern that neither her breasts nor butt were as voluptuously curved as those of Lillian or Rima. If she was not found sufficiently attractive, the mission would be in trouble.

"Alright girls," Lillian said, pulling up her dress to attach a knife to her silk stockings, "remember, make certain your man drinks his sedative-laced beer. You'll be given two pints of it, and whatever you do, avoid drinking it."

The cold Nana methodically blasted them with strong perfume while Ichiro and Rafael watched Lillian while biting their lips. Kasia pinned her hair into a ponytail.

"What's this Kasia? Get your hair out of that ponytail this instant," Lillian snapped, undoing her ponytail's pin. "There, much better," Lillian complimented as her wavy and brown-dyed hair fell upon her shoulders. "That would be tough for any man to resist."

The short, pixie-haired slayer Katherine rushed in wearing her barmaid disguise, her hair dyed brown and her eyes suppressed to their original blue state.

Katherine shouted, "They're here!"

Lillian quickly attached small knives as backup weapons to Rima and Kasia's legs.

"Alright, girls, let's show them a hopefully short time of fun," Lillian declared.

Their middle-aged contact Mitsugawa arrived in the storeroom and hustled them out. They arrived at the bar to find countless enlisted soldiers drinking and chatting up many of the tavern's other call girls. These girls, most lacking the fancy clothing and hairdos Lillian had insisted on, looked over in hateful jealousy at their new rivals.

The tavern's bar was jammed with Grand Alliance soldiers in their armor and white and red uniforms. Kasia stomach churned as she realized she couldn't understand any of the men.

"Lillian," Kasia whispered as they arrived at the bar's back, "what if I can't communicate with the guy?"

"Quiet," Lillian snapped, then whispered back, "Then just use hand signs, and for pity's sake, try to not get us all killed by speaking Comnenian."

Kasia noticed the men were entirely ignoring the tavern's plainer regular call girls, all soon pointing at Lillian, Rima and her and shouting numbers.

"Hundert Allianzmark," a young enlisted soldier said, pointing right at her.

Kasia's stomach churned; she'd forgotten just how much she feared the trade of prostitution. The shouts in incomprehensible Drachen Sprache further unnerved her. The bidding for her services jumped while they skyrocketed for Lillian and Rima.

"Hundertzwanzig Allianzmark!"

"Hundertfünfzig Allianzmark," a soldier countered.

The bidding continued as Kasia noticed a group of three-better dressed men in fine red and white-striped military jackets and trousers walking up. There was a middle-aged white man in the finest uniform; Kapitän Speer. A pair of younger officers approached, one a mustached light-skinned man, the other a well-muscled but anxious looking dark-skinned man. They had to be Leutnants Schatzenkammer and Opara.

Kapitän Speer took a look over the call girls on offer and made an instantaneous offer, "Tausend Allianzmark!"

Rima looked surprised, as he was pointing straight at her instead of Lillian. No one matched the offer, so seconds later Rima followed Kapitän Speer up the stairs to the tavern's hourly-rate rooms. Kasia felt a trickle of sweat go down her dress as Rima left.

The enlisted men and Leutnant Schatzenkammer eagerly resumed bidding, sending Lillian's bids skyrocketing.

"Dreihundert Allianzmark!"

"Fünfhundert Allianzmark!"

"Siebenhundert Allianzmark!"

Leutnant Schatzenkammer smiled as no one else matched his bid for the gorgeous Lillian. Lillian frowned momentarily, perhaps in jealousy at Rima's bid, and then silkily escorted her sponsor upstairs. That left just Leutnant Opara, who was drinking beer, studying Kasia, but making no bids like the enlisted men. She was sweating more now; this wasn't how the plan was supposed to go.

"Kasia," Katherine whispered in her ear, coming over from her "job" as barmaid, "say something to him!"

"But I don't know Drachen Sprache," she whispered back.

The bids continued, "Dreihundert Allianzmark," an enlisted man next to Leutnant Opara shouted, pointing at her.

Katherine whispered in Comnenian, her dangerous speech covered up by the noise of the bar's rambunctious patrons, "Don't you know anything other than Comnenian?"

"My mother's tongue, but…"

"Then try it now or our plan is going to be dangerously shorthanded," Katherine snapped, losing her patience.

"Hi," Kasia said, approaching Leutnant Opara.

"Kasia," Katherine hissed behind her.

She chillingly realized she'd just said hello to Leutnant Opara in Comnenian. No one seemed to have heard her besides Opara, who didn't notice the language, which meant she hadn't just blown the entire plan. She hastily switched over to her rusty but functional mother's tongue.

Kasia did a bold approach, "Why are you just sitting there and not bidding?"

Opara's eyes lit up, "You speak my tongue?"

"Of course, my mom taught it to me," Kasia explained, then opted to try to ignite his sense of passionate compassion. "Can't you please beat the bids of the enlisted men? The last one scarred my face when I couldn't do the impossible," she pleaded.

"Oh, so that's why you needed to cover your left cheek with makeup," Leutnant Opara remarked, nobody else around understanding a word. "I'm sorry my darling, but I don't usually buy the services of prostitutes, even beautiful ones like you. I find them poor company when it comes to having a conversation about my interests," Opara admitted.

In this area, at least, Katherine's mission briefing was a lifesaver; Opara's interests were known to be primarily world affairs, a subject Kasia loved. She launched off into a conversation about internal wedges in both of the world's alliances. Then, with Opara smiling at her efforts, she switched the subject to travels. Here her memory of James' storytelling was crucial, as she substituted herself into James' tales, Opara growing increasingly entranced.

He was snapped out of this by an enlisted man's unrivaled bid, "Fünfhundert Allianzmark!"

"Please," Kasia pleaded with Leutnant Opara so the plan could go through.

Opara shouted over the din of soldiers, "Tausend Allianzmark!"

A bunch of scornful looks went Opara's way from the enlisted ranks as Katherine coaxed her forward to escort the top bidder. Her heartbeat was echoing in her head as Opara wrapped a well-muscled arm around her waist. They walked upstairs, where Katherine showed them their room: a room lit by a mere quartet of candles on wall mountings, with a queen-sized red and white bed, and even a small dresser. There was not a lot of room to it, but then again the profession didn't exactly require it. Katherine closed the door, leaving her alone with Opara.

"Let's get the sex over with first," Leutnant Opara said, loosening his belt.

Kasia felt her heartbeat skyrocket, her stress barely contained as she acted cool with Opara. Kasia noticed the sedative-laced pair of beer mugs on the dresser that Katherine had left.

Kasia suggested, "Wouldn't you like some beer first?"

Opara smiled, "Beer ruins the experience. Sex is far better when you're not buzzed from alcohol. Let me get on the bed first," he added.

Opara took off his shirt and lay down on his back, "So, do you want me to undress you from here or what?"

"Sorry," Kasia apologized. She fell back on her prostitution training to produce an excuse for her hesitance, "I'm not used to such genteel treatment."

She unzipped the back of the gown, letting it fall away from her chest, past her belly, and then finally to the floor. Her slayer belly scars were hidden by a belly and lower back-covering red silk corset. She'd managed to slip the knife off her silk leg stockings as the dress fell to the room's wood floor, thus avoiding a dangerously awkward moment.

"Well now," Opara smiled, "you're prettier than I thought. Those two chestier girls were a little too thick for my tastes. This," Opara said, gesturing at her mostly nude body from the bed, "Is a lot more desirable."

Kasia sidled up to the bed, only her silk leg stockings and corset covering any of her body. That only left the most erotic parts, her womanhood and rounded, average-sized breasts rather exposed to Opara's visual inspection. She realized it was now or never on convincing Opara to down the sedative-laced beer.

She positioned herself over his still trouser-covered waist, "I usually perform better when both of us have had something to drink."

It was a gamble, but if she didn't drink as well, Opara would likely become suspicious, given his views of alcohol in the bedroom.

"Alright, alright," Opara sighed, "we'll do things your way."

He grabbed the beer mugs, handing her one as he took the other.

"To a great time," Leutnant Opara said in a toast.

"To a great time," Kasia repeated, and then reluctantly downed her own sedative-laced beer as Opara downed his soon afterwards.

She didn't fall asleep immediately, and neither did Opara, but already she could feel the sedatives affecting her.

"Bring those beautiful melons down where I can enjoy them," Opara ordered.

She obliged him, lowering her upper body to press her breasts against his face. As she did so she nearly fell off the bed as the sedatives took effect. Thankfully Opara was at least equally affected, his mouth opening in a yawn.

"Okay, how about you take my belt off and get the party started," Opara suggested.

She clumsily did as she was told, the belt proving to be difficult. Opara's trousers didn't fall when the belt was removed, as he was laying on a bed. He grabbed her by the behind and pressed her femininity against his bulging trousers. Kasia felt her legs break out in sweats as he did so.

She stalled by grinding against his bulging trousers rather than removing them, fearing James' reaction if she had intercourse. A few moments there was a crash, as Opara dropped his beer mug, safely unconscious. She was getting up just as Katherine got into the room.

"Well done Kasia," pixie-haired Katherine praised. "Now we can get this mission rolling. Hey, are you feeling well?"

The last thing Kasia heard as she blanked out was Katherine's scream.

* * *

"Kasia, Kasia, come on, wake up!"

Kasia heard a female voice in her foggy head.

"Come on Kasia," Rima snapped, "get your ass up!"

Kasia blinked her eyes open to find Rima's face a half meter away.

"She's awake," Rima shouted.

Kasia slowly sat up with Rima's help as her head's fogginess cleared.

Kasia groggily asked, "What happened?"

"We were going to ask you that," Lillian snapped, kneeling down next to Rima. "What in the world made you drink the sedative-laced beer?"

"Opara wouldn't drink the beer unless I did too," Kasia explained. "So I had to make up an excuse to drink it with him."

"You nearly made us change all the plans," Lillian sighed. "You've been out cold for four hours. You should've held back on the beer; you know we can only filter out poisons, not sedatives."

Kasia looked around: all around were crenellated stone walls, each side looking as if she were atop a stone tower.

"Where are we?"

"We're atop the eastern gatehouse tower of Kagano," Rima explained. "About ten minutes ago we seized the tower and killed all the guards."

"But," Kasia objected, "Won't we—"

"Too late for that now," Lillian interjected. "James, Rafael and Ichiro sent us the yoki signal five minutes ago. It means Count Junkers is dead, and now that you're awake, we can send them the signal to hurry."

Rima spiked her impressive yoki a bit, and then Kasia looked over in the direction of James' yoki. It seemed to be located in Kagano's citadel, which had concentric rings of tower and wall defenses. All seemed quiet as she looked at it in the night, its towers lightly illuminated by torches. Or at least it did, as someone began cranking a klaxon meant to signal an attack.

"Those boys better hurry," Lillian huffed. "We can't hold the gatehouse against a thousand archers."

Kasia stood up as the klaxon was joined by another, distant shouts becoming audible. Below the gatehouse Kasia noticed the remaining three of the squad's female subordinates walking around several stacks of enemy soldiers' bodies. Kasia looked back at Rima and Lillian, both of whom were wearing their black leather and steel armor stained with a little blood. Kasia noticed she was no longer partly nude, but also dressed in leather and armor again.

"Here they come," Rima remarked.

Kasia noticed a column of torches chasing three darker shadows moving towards them. All around Kagano torches were being lit and windows were opening as residents and soldiers alike woke up to the klaxons.

"Sister," Rima interrupted, "the next time you decide to drink sedatives, you've got to get someone else to carry you a kilometer."

"Hold it, Lillian snapped, looking down to the cobblestone streets below. "Let's go ladies, we've got swordsmen inbound on the gatehouse."

Rima and Lillian leaped down from the gatehouse immediately, landing in the midst of a hundred swordsmen. Kasia jumped a moment later, landing safely but awkwardly. She cut down four enemy swordsmen in her first slash. With their skilled swordsmanship, the six of them cut down the entire company in a minute.

They were readying to leave when James, Rafael, and Ichiro came scrambling towards the gate. They were panting, tugging along a quartet of horses each packed with two trunks apiece. One of the horses James was tugging along fell, making a horrific noise, four arrows embedded in its sides.

James screamed at her as he approached within ten meters, "Kasia, duck!"

On reflex she did so, and a flurry of arrows whistled just over her unprotected head. A scream of pain from behind her rang out. She turned to find an elderly man falling to the ground outside the gate, a young dark-haired girl screaming in anguish beside him, "Grandpa!"

With all three of the male slayers running by her, Lillian turned to flee as well, shouting to pixie-haired Katherine, "Drop the gate!"

Kasia scrambled to her feet, barely ducking underneath the falling steel gate. She found the girl crying over her grandfather and stopped.

"Come on Kasia," Rima shouted, "Don't take the girl and—"

Kasia grabbed the girl anyways and fled…

* * *

"That's an amazing story Princess Kasia," Dietrich praised.

She'd arrived at the palace on time; it had been a close thing, as Jaroslaw had taken his time satisfying his lust for her. She'd come to Princess Kasia dressed in a black jacket, black tights, and long brown boots. The look was completed by golden trim throughout, and it had been praised by Princess Kasia for its "imperial look".

They were walking the long sandy boulevard of the palace's main garden avenue, with the Silver Guard walking all around. Princess Kasia seemed to like telling Dietrich her life stories, and given how badly she needed to understand the Imperial Family, she was glad to listen. She listened more intently now, aware through Tusk's slip of the tongue that Kasia was the empress' favorite, even if not worthy of being heir to the throne.

"Your Imperial Highness, what happened to the girl you took?"

"I didn't take her," Princess Kasia snapped, defensive. "Her grandfather was dead already, and in those days there was only one place was orphaned girls in the Grand Alliance: the slave sex trade. That girl changed the course of my life after I rescued her," Kasia sighed.

Dietrich continued differently, "Is your squad leader still around Princess Kasia?"

She noticed Princess Kasia paused, sighing as if something were wrong.

Dietrich queried, "Did I say something wrong Your Imperial Highness?"

"No, it's just something I'd rather we discuss later," Princess Kasia almost whispered.

Dietrich followed behind Princess Kasia, and a few minutes later they rounded a turn in the palace's gardens. Dietrich was expecting to find a massively powerful slayer, or perhaps a few dozen such individuals, such was the strength of the yokis overwhelming her senses. Instead she was shocked at what she saw.

A few hundred meters away were countless numbers of children, both male and female, each with bleached/blond hair and silver eyes. The children, who seemed to vary from around six years old to twelve, were practicing combat wrestling with one another in unison. Their shouts unnerved Dietrich, which Princess Kasia noticed.

"Don't fret Countess. These children were selected from millions of applicants to join a new unit, 'the Empress' Volunteers'. These few thousand children are the next generation of silver-eyed slayers. They are well-paid, receive the finest training imaginable, the best education money can buy, and they will not be rushed into combat, nor separated from their parents. When they eventually graduate, they will be exclusively under the command of the Imperial Family," Kasia explained.

Dietrich asked, "You mean all future slayers will be under the empress' direct command?"

Princess Kasia, wearing a similar dress to yesterday's, smiled, "Not exactly. The commander of the Empress' Volunteers is my dear stepsister, Crown Princess Rima, who's approaching us now."

Dietrich looked over to see Rima, dressed in the magnificent armor of the Silver Guard, approach from a distance. Rima was similarly armored to the Silver Guard, with a cuirass protecting the upper body and shoulders, a set of hanging tassets protecting her waist and upper legs, greaves protecting her knees and lower legs, gauntlets protecting her hands, and an open-faced ornate helmet atop her head. To this Rima had added large gleaming pauldrons over the shoulders, and also plate armor along the entire length of her arms.

The well-armored and intimidating Rima moved quickly up to her stepsister, both making a slight bow to the other.

"Dzień dobry sister," Rima said with tenor voice to Kasia.

"Dzień dobry Rima," Kasia replied in her bass voice, smiling.

Just like Princess Kasia had said, Kasia and Rima had virtually indistinguishable heights. They were easily distinguished, as Kasia's brown skin, long wavy blond hair, and her scarred face were quite different from Rima's paler skin, even longer straight blond hair, and mixed features.

Dietrich abruptly noticed several hundred lightly armored members of the Empress' Volunteers were marching into the square. They lined up with military precision before Rima, their commander. Dietrich noticed that all of these Volunteers were fully grown adults, armored only in a steel cuirass, helmet, gauntlets, steel boots and tassets.

"These individuals, my dear Hrabina," Kasia addressed her, "were already full-fledged slayers and pledged to join as the first five hundred members of the Empress' Volunteers."

"So this is your new assistant Kasia?" Crown Princess Rima sighed. "I'm surprised to find one so short survived long on the Organization's island."

"Greater height is not always an advantage Your Imperial Highness," Dietrich replied.

"No indeed," the Crown Princess agreed. "I've brought the prisoners, but none of them will change their minds and swear fealty to the empress."

Dietrich noticed a line of almost a hundred prisoners shackled arm and foot being led into the midst of the assembled adult Volunteers. To Dietrich's shock and consternation, she noticed they were all silver-eyed slayers. Both male and female, they were clad in plain brown and had shaved heads.

Kasia asked Rima, "Then you couldn't change Lillian's mind?"

"No, she's still as stubborn as ever," Rima sighed. "She has absolutely no regret for killing four of our silver-eyed comrades in defense of the Alliance of Nations."

Dietrich's stomach churned; Lillian was Kasia and Rima's former squad leader, and by the sounds of it, they still loved her. However Lillian must have violently disagreed with the coup, and thus the dear friends found themselves on opposite sides.

"I'm going to talk to her," Kasia declared.

Dietrich followed politely behind Princess Kasia and her higher-ranked stepsister. They arrived before a slayer marked apart from all others; she still had her long, curly strawberry-blond hair. The slayer was gorgeous, even in shackles and a plain brown tunic.

Lillian's head lifted as they approached, "Have you come to gloat Kasia?"

"I would never gloat to you Lillian," Princess Kasia sighed. "I'm going to ask you one final time, for the sake of our past friendship, to swear fealty to the empire."

Lillian laughed, "Swear loyalty to you, the Cesarzowa, Rima, and even Bastia? Here's my answer!"

Lillian spat into Kasia's face, who wiped it away with a hand and walked away. Crown Princess Rima motioned with a hand and suddenly four Volunteers rushed over and grabbed Lillian. She didn't even struggle as she was escorted up to a wooden platform with a noose.

"You've given us no choice Lillian," Rima cried, tears streaming down her face.

"Rima," Lillian snapped as she climbed the platform, "the only reason why you joined the Imperial Family is you couldn't oppose your own sister. You cowardly chose to follow Kasia into the Imperial Family rather than do what was right!"

Dietrich noticed James and several members of the Silver Guard crying as the noose was fitted around Lillian's neck.

"I hope you're all proud of what you've become," Lillian shouted. "For although I may die here, I die knowing that at least the worst ring in hell is reserved for betrayers and usurpers."

Dietrich looked away as the floorboards were opened, and with a sickening gasp from Lillian and a lurch, Kasia and Rima's former friend was dead. Kasia was the sole member of Lillian's former squad to not cry, although Kasia did not have the heart to watch the hanging.

Kasia and Rima walked away back towards the imperial palace together as the other executions started. Dietrich could feel a melancholy in the air; even the ruthless heirs of the empress still had some humanity left in them. Dietrich abruptly thought of Wenceslaus' request for the empress to spare Alexander Comnenus' life.

"Princess Kasia, Your Highness," Dietrich interrupted the silence, "I was wondering what Empress Katarzyna was going to do with Alexander Comnenus."

"He's been exiled to the island of Tuluzy, the island of the Organization," Crown Princess Rima surprisingly answered. "It was a decision the Cesarzowa reached after the island you spoke of was confirmed to exist. Even as we speak he's on a ship headed to its shores."

"I thank the Imperial Family on Wenceslaus' behalf then," Dietrich replied. "May I inquire as to what I will be doing as your aide, Princess Kasia?"

"Helping me set up law and order in the city of Praha," Princess Kasia replied.

"But—"

"The Cesarzowa's orders have already come through," Kasia explained. "All five hundred active Empress' Volunteers and the entire 100,000-strong Imperial Guard will be attacking the city in four days. The entire Imperial Court, including Cesarzowa Katarzyna, will be taking up residence in Praha once it's taken."


	6. Chapter 5: Deadly Intrigue

**Chapter 5: Deadly Intrigue**

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* * *

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**Excerpt from "The History of the Romanow Empire"**

**The Alliance of Nations' ruling families were almost entirely annihilated by Katarzyna Romanowa's coup, with only a couple of prominent exceptions. However, despite Katarzyna's killing of emperors, empresses, kings, queens, Dukes, Sultans, Sheikhs, and Doges, their former subordinates were not so thoroughly targeted. This led to a bizarre period when cousins of the former rulers began to decide whether to claim their birthright or swear loyalty to the impressive new empress. In the early days the ambitious of these cousins, male and female, thought Empress Katarzyna weak.**

**When Katarzyna won a string of twenty consecutive victories with ease against the numerically superior opposition, many of the rebellious aristocrats had second thoughts. Depending on their level of opposition to her rise to power, Empress Katarzyna chose different outcomes for her former opponents. Katarzyna had a third executed outright, another third imprisoned for long periods, and the rest were given a heterogeneous set of rewards and consequences, ranging from generous compensation to light punishment. With a large percentage of the alliance's aristocratic families dead or in prison, Katarzyna's silver-eyed followers often rose in their place.**

**A month into her reign, Empress Katarzyna had to address the nature of the emerging aristocracy. Katarzyna decreed that all titles of aristocracy were no longer hereditary, but rather incumbent on serving positions in the government, the empire's armed forces or in recognition of great accomplishments. All previous titles were then decreed null and void; this would prolong the opposition to her rule. All of the new ranks of nobility were non-hereditary, did not grant legal immunity, paid salaries, and gave no land. Historians agree this was done to ensure loyalty to the Imperial Family and avoid giving the nobility a permanent power base to oppose her plans.**

**A mixed aristocracy of humans and silver-eyed slayers took shape. Many started out with low titles and advanced as the empire gained strength. Dietrich Tuluzy, having arrived two years prior to the coup, was one of them. When Wenceslaus accepted the permanent change in power, he was given the title of Duke, as was his bitter rival Sergei Djugashvili. Wenceslaus secured for Dietrich Tuluzy, the exiled ex-Organization claymore, the lowest rank of "Lady". Within a few months Dietrich saw her rank increased to Baronetess, and then Baroness.**

**Dietrich's arrival in Visegrad attracted immediate attention, especially once she was promoted to Countess and then made Princess Kasia's aide. Unfortunately for Dietrich, her presence was seen as threatening to Djugashvili's marriage chances with the empress. Given the stakes and the antagonism between Sergei and Wenceslaus, Dietrich's life soon became a lot more interesting…**

* * *

Empress Katarzyna had moved against the rebel city of Praha, last of the organized resistance to her rule. Dietrich could not help but feel impressed with the speed of the campaign. The 100,000-man strong Imperial Guard mobilized in a day, and then began to march at high speed. Dietrich accompanied the Imperial Family and entire Imperial Court not far behind. The Imperial Guard arrived a whole day ahead of schedule, and were soon besieging the fortress city of Praha.

Praha seemed impregnable, with triple city walls, numerous towers, and a sizable and stubborn garrison. Their commander, situated high above in Praha Palace, laughed in the face of the imperial emissaries' surrender demands. Crown Princess Rima had pleaded for them to avoid bloodshed, but the rebels' response was to open fire with cannons. Rima escaped to be thoroughly chastised by her sister Princess Kasia for endangering the Imperial succession. Thus rebuffed, the empress decided to make an example of the rebels with a brilliant plan.

The five hundred Empress' Volunteers accompanying were the key to the plan, aside from massed use of heavy cannons. The next night the Imperial Guard unleashed a hellish storm of artillery upon the fortress city. Under the cover of night and the cannon-fire, the Empress' Volunteers quietly scaled the bridge walls over the river. They silently killed all opposition and then opened the river gates to a waiting flotilla of warships. These entered carrying nearly the entire Imperial Guard directly into the city center, unbeknownst to the rebels.

Dietrich was both impressed and appalled by the slaughter that followed. The Imperial Guard fanned out, led onwards by silver-eyed Volunteers. The rebels proved stubborn to the end, fighting to the death rather than surrendering. The Imperial Guard obliged them, hitting the enemy from behind and killing them by the tens of thousands. Eventually it was less a battle than slaughter, the Silver Guard even joining in to single-handedly take Praha Palace.

Only fifty Silver Guards attacked, but their armor, elite combat skills, and outstanding leadership saw them cut through massive opposition. The Silver Guard, thanks to their duratium-forged armor seemed far more lethal than even Wenceslaus had told her to expect. They took Praha Palace in half an hour outnumbered 100:1 all while taking no losses. Dietrich was both impressed and terrified as she watched alongside Crown Princess Rima through binoculars. Their performance was just one of many things she'd have to secretly message Wenceslaus about as soon as she could.

The next morning, with Praha still smoldering, the empress took residence in Praha Palace, which had been hastily wiped clean of blood. The enemy commander was dead, killed by the Silver Guard Commander, Katja Tymoshenko. Of the one hundred and ninety thousand man enemy garrison, a mere three thousand had surrendered and survived the attack. The empress had once again triumphed in spectacular fashion despite the odds. Having seen the empress' leadership in action, Dietrich no longer wondered why Wenceslaus tolerated her overthrow of the old order.

Princess Kasia gave Dietrich one of the finest small manors in Praha, although it was a decent distance from Praha Palace. She'd barely moved in when Princess Kasia's messengers demanded she come to Praha Palace. Dietrich started work immediately, and as her day wore on, she began to understand Tusk's warning about Kasia being a workaholic. Kasia was setting up an entirely new, civilian force to maintain order throughout the empire: the Imperial Police. They were to be given a single short sword, a baton, nice uniforms, and only a single cuirass over the torso for protection.

An exhausting week later, with the Imperial Police rapidly taking shape under Kasia's relentless leadership, Dietrich found herself trudging home in exhaustion. She snuck a glance back at the palace on the plateau behind her. Running down the path from the palace was a familiar figure: her handsome if altogether too lust-obsessed paramour, Jaroslaw Tusk.

Dietrich sighed as Tusk approached down the cobblestone road.

Dietrich snapped, "What is it Jaroslaw?"

Tusk, wearing the full plate armor of an Imperial Guard cavalryman, panted as he arrived next to her. Dietrich walked past his tall figure to overlook the well-lit city of Praha, which encircled both the palace above and the inner city upon the river. Its temple towers and church spires were barely lit in the dark night, although beneath them was another story. Everywhere Dietrich's eyes could see there were Imperial Guardsmen marching around wielding torches.

Jaroslaw gasped, walking up to her side, "Where have you been this last week?"

"Where would you expect? I've been slaving away for Princess Kasia and I really don't have the time for romance," Dietrich snapped.

Tusk squirmed, "Why are you so angry?"

Dietrich's elaborate black and gold embroidered gown felt awkward as her pace quickened. There was a muffled noise behind her, but she ignored this and kept walking.

"It should be blatantly obvious Jaroslaw; just because you allowed me to stay at your place in Visegrad doesn't mean I owed you sex every damn hour," Dietrich spat.

Tusk's voice sniffed, "Oh, and whose dress are you wearing?"

Dietrich rounded in anger, "Look, quit thinking with your balls more than your brains! I am trying to convince the empress to marry Wenceslaus because I am bound to honor my promises to him. I'm just a little tired, so buzz off!"

Tusk walked up with surprising nonchalance and remarked, "Well we can't have you like that. How about you take some sedatives?"

Dietrich screamed out in pain; in the middle of her belly was thrust a massive sword. Abruptly Tusk's image was replaced by that of a black-clad individual, only their silver eyes visible. Their face was covered, and they stood before her, sniffing in amusement through their mask. Dietrich fell to her knees, gasping in pain and shock, her senses blurred somehow despite the pain.

"Why?"

A female voice mocked, "It's well known that poisons won't work to immobilize those of silver-eyed heritage. However, my sword is covered in a strong sedative, and in two minutes you'll lose consciousness. However, given your mission, it'd be best for you to die now."

Dietrich desperately and clumsily grasped for the short sword Princess Kasia had gifted her. Her female assailant however was quicker, and painfully took the sword out of Dietrich's torso. Dietrich fell to the ground in pain and drowsiness, and glanced up to see the sword raised for the decapitating blow.

Her assailant hesitated a moment, hearing something. A whirring noise stirred in the night, and suddenly the clothed female slayer staggered for a moment. Dietrich's droopy eyes could just make out an arrow sticking out of the black-clothed slayer's back. The slayer ran for it rather than finish the task at hand…

* * *

Dietrich opened her eyes to find herself back in her manor, tucked into the enormous red-sheeted canopy bed of its master bedroom. The room was just like she remembered, with hardwood floors, several massive dressers she'd stuffed Tusk's gifted clothing into, a pair of bookcases, and the room's ridiculously gaudy and enormous gold chandelier.

Dietrich looked around abruptly, remembering the horrible memory from the night. She noticed Tusk slumped over the room's sole sofa before the grand fireplace opposite the bed. She got up, tossing the sheets off, and rushed over, parts of her feeling oddly in pain. Thankfully the less-than-constricting short, white nightgown she was wearing didn't rub against her body much.

"Jaroslaw," Dietrich snapped, jostling his hunky shoulders with her small hands. "Come on; quit being a pain and get up. What happened to you? Did that evil woman knock you out?"

"He can't get up, you see his drink was laced with sedatives," a male voice interjected.

Dietrich jumped in surprise; her heart was racing as she remembered why it was she feared the word "sedatives".

Standing in the doorway was James Havel, dressed in his finest Silver Guard armor. He stood, in Dietrich's estimation, just a tad shorter than Princess Kasia. In contrast to Kasia, James' lean frame was somewhat more muscular and of course he had paler skin than the brown-skinned Kasia. He was marked apart by his short white hair. He was also the second-in-command of the deadliest unit of soldiers on earth, which was why she was backing away from him towards the bed.

Havel snorted in amusement, "Good grief, do you think the Cesarzowa so idiotic she'd actually attempt to kill Wenceslaus' emissary? I trust you remember what happened."

Dietrich frowned, "Lieutenant Commander Havel, what are you doing here?"

"I have been assigned to keep you safe while your assailant is tracked down, Hrabina," the Silver Guard's number 2 explained. "Thanks to Princess Kasia worrying about your safety, you've had the Silver Guard trailing you for the past week. Luckily for you, we weren't far away when your assailant attacked, and thus you're alive. I'd like to hear what happened."

"I was attacked by some silver-eyed female with a covered face and a mask. I thought it was a bad dream until… well, until I ran into you. How in the world did she sneak up on me—"

Havel walked over to an easy chair before the fireplace's smoldering fire and sat down, interjecting, "How your assailant managed to sneak up on you and through our security is still under investigation. It would help us if you could tell what you remember."

"Well," Dietrich mumbled, thoughtfully stroking her chin, "I was heading back from home when Colonel Tusk ran up to talk to me. I got annoyed at him and then I heard a muffled sound. I guess that he was knocked out by my assailant, but..."

Havel's eyes narrowed, "We saw you talking to your assailant even as we were coming to help. Corporal Torres claims he heard you talking as if your attacker were Colonel Tusk."

Dietrich gulped in horrible realization, "There was one claymore, one slayer that is, who could use yoki to explore your deepest memories. She could, with a thought, manipulate your yoki so that you would see illusions that would make you delusional. She was our No. 10, Raftela, and was used as the Organization's ultimate anti-Awakened Being and claymore warrior. I thought she died during the anti-Organization rebellion, but it's possible that was her attacking me last night. I don't know of anyone else able to pull off such a dangerous trick."

Havel was writing down every detail, "Did your assailant say anything to you after she stabbed you with her sword, or were you still under an illusion?"

"She said her sword was covered in sedatives," Dietrich replied. "She said given my mission, it was best if I died."

Havel stopped writing altogether and looked up with concern, "Are you absolutely certain she said that?"

Dietrich sighed, "Yes, but I don't understand why she'd kill me for my mission when…"

"You're the sole emissary of one of two male slayers personally stronger than the Cesarzowa and interested in becoming emperor. Why in the world wouldn't you—"

"I just realized it, I'm sorry! I didn't think anyone would want to—"

Havel cut her off, "Was there anything else, a name or something else they said?"

Dietrich recovered and replied, "No, I'm sorry, but does this help you?"

"I don't know if it helps me so much as it's going to alarm our dear Cesarzowa. Security's been tripled in only a week here in Praha. We've got another 200,000 soldiers patrolling the streets now, but the Cesarzowa may decide to add even more after I bring this to Her Supreme Imperial Majesty," Havel informed her.

Dietrich asked, "How long have I been unconscious?"

"You've been unconscious for a solid week, and the doctors didn't give you a high chance of regaining consciousness. If the sedative-covered sword was in your body much longer, you'd have been put into a permanent coma. Luckily for you, your assailant didn't even see the Silver Guard coming when she was about to execute you. You can thank Corporal Torres' shot for saving your life," Havel informed her.

"I should really thank him immediately," Dietrich said, still shocked.

"That can wait," Havel made clear. "Cesarzowa Katarzyna in the meantime has assigned you a permanent guard of ten Silver Guards for your protection," Havel added.

Dietrich stammered, "But aren't there only a hundred of you? How can you protect the four members of the Imperial Family and—"

"The Cesarzowa is relentless just like Princess Kasia. Her Supreme Imperial Majesty has been recruiting, training and equipping a second company of Silver Guards to address this very problem since her reign began. Princess Kasia wanted me to reassure you that there will not be a second attack. Empress Katarzyna has also decided to send Wenceslaus her response in the aftermath of the attack."

Dietrich hopefully asked, "Did she accept?"

A dangerous scowl briefly crossed Havel's long face as he got up, "No she didn't, although she's considering it for your sake. I'll be leaving now; Tusk will be conscious in an hour or so. He's been by your side since he woke up. You should appreciate having a boyfriend who is so dedicated."

"That's very nice of him," Dietrich murmured approvingly, looking over at Tusk and then back to Havel. "But speaking of commitment, why are you so upset about Wenceslaus' marriage proposal?"

Havel turned his back and walked towards the grand oak door, not even looking at her.

"If you love Princess Kasia so much, then why are you interested in the empress too?"

Havel paused but did not turn around, "I'm sure you can't understand my feelings; I certainly don't feel like a hypocrite."

"I'm grateful for your help in saving my life," Dietrich admitted. "I don't understand how you can live with yourself. If you and Princess Kasia love each other, why aren't you ignoring the Cesarzowa and getting engaged to Princess Kasia instead?"

Havel smiled, turning his head to spare Dietrich a parting stare, "We aren't engaged, that's true. But that's because we haven't divorced and gotten re-engaged."

Dietrich felt a renewed sense of shock, "Wait, you mean you're currently married?"

"Goodbye Hrabina," Havel said, and with hardly a sound, he was gone.

* * *

"Remember, if anyone asks, you're my granddaughter Anna, and I'm your dear grandpa," the old man informed "Anna".

'Anna, had just escaped her Grand Alliance captors by twisting their necks and killing them. She was a young girl of some twelve years, and by all accounts, not ordinary. Her parents had donated her to the Alliance of Nations' cause, and a few years later she'd been captured. Her captors had underestimated her, and she escaped through a daringly simple plan…straight into Grand Alliance territory. She'd stolen some peasant clothing; a gray blouse and dress, which was annoyingly constricting her movements.

The old man, who wanted her to call him "grandpa", was thin, with gray hair and dressed in silver-buckle shoes, a fine black hat, fine black trousers, and a frilly white shirt. He was the last person she expected to be an Alliance of Nations' spy, due to the ostentatious merchant's outfit he was wearing. She was not yet his height, although her puberty was in full stride now, her body becoming more womanish each day as her height climbed.

She'd found him after sneaking past the guards to a small town, only for this man to snatch her. He hid her from sight in an empty barrel in his shop while soldiers came by looking for her. Unfortunately for her, a quartet of massive Smokowcy weren't far behind. Smokowcy, also known as Dragonkin, were legendary for their sense of smell. They were like giant Bloodhounds, and given her body's unique scent, hiding for long wasn't an option.

The spy smuggled her out, after she'd been given a bath and blasted in subtle, scent-covering perfumes, right past the unwary guards. A minute later, as she looked through a crack in the carriage's luggage compartment, a massive Dragonkin had walked up and began sniffing the air where they'd passed by. It passed reassuringly out of view as the carriage continued along.

They spent the night in a tavern, where she was "bathed" in the mixed scents of humanity to confuse their pursuers. Despite needing some rest, "grandpa" had kept going, not resting a moment. As it turned out, he had good reason not to delay. They stopped for a few hours in a cave to sleep when loud sniffing noises had woke her up. A pair of massive snouts was sniffing the narrow main entrance as she watched in horror. "Grandpa" quickly spirited her to the side entrance, where they made a hasty escape out into the rugged countryside.

A desperate day of running later, they were now exhausted, having tried every trick imaginable to shake the terrifying, 3-story tall pursuers. Worse still, word of her escape had spread, and Grand Alliance troops were everywhere, checking papers and people throughout the countryside. "Grandpa" however had one trick up his sleeve: a canoe. They paddled downstream towards temporary sanctuary: the city of Kagano. There they would find a local contact, Mitsugawa-san, and hopefully a way back to the Alliance of Nations.

She could see the city of Kagano dimly in the moonlight, its towers lit by lonely torches. A few months prior this had been Alliance of Nations' territory; not so now apparently, as they'd had to avoid numerous patrols along the road. It was thus with some relief and apprehension that they approached walled city. She'd dyed her hair and taken every possible step to disguise her true appearance. She was, however, less than reassured.

"How can you be sure there won't be any Dragonkin in the city "Grandpa"?

The friendly spy sighed, "Kagano's streets were never designed for Smokowcy, so you should have nothing to fear from them. We'll be meeting with Mitsugawa-san, and he should be able to find you a way back."

"This medicine is making me sick," Anna complained. "Are you sure my—"

"They're fine dearest one," the spy reassured. "We shouldn't have any trouble getting past the gate guards here with you like this."

They trudged past a pair of sleepy guards on the way towards the gate. The cobblestone road was in great shape thankfully, and made easy work of their walking. They were just within sight of the three-story gatehouse when a klaxon began to wind up. Its alarm rose and fell as she ran towards the gatehouse.

"Anna, wait, stop!"

She ignored the spy's commands and ran towards the gatehouse, shouting back, "I bet our troops are attacking the city. Come on and we'll get rescued!"

The spy tried his best to catch up, but her youthful legs surged with energy as she climbed the low rise to the gatehouse. She ran to within a hundred meters and stopped short. Scattered all around the road were dozens of dead Grand Alliance soldiers. "Grandpa" ran up next to her and blanched at the blood, bodies, and dismembered limbs lying around.

"Something attacked the Grand Alliance, but I think we should be cautious," he advised.

They crept closer to the main gate, and a number of figures were moving in the dark. She was about to run for it when a whole company of swordsmen charged towards the gate from further within the city. These swordsmen were spectacularly attacked, a pair of individuals with massive swords landed in their midst. They did some vicious spinning attacks, taking down large numbers of men. A third individual jumped into the remaining swordsmen's midst. By Anna's estimate, these warriors had killed an entire company of soldiers in twenty seconds.

She noticed a trio of dark figures towing animals towards the gate, all of them pursued by mobs of soldiers holding torches.

"Anna, we need to get out of here now," the spy shouted.

Suddenly a male's voice shouted, "Kasia, duck!"

A trio of arrows hit the spy in the torso, and he fell backwards upon the cobblestone road. His eyes closed as his head hit the stones, and a moment later he gave a last twitch.

She screamed in shock, "Grandpa!"

Seven individuals streamed past her in the dark, out the gate, two of them towing a trio of animals. They were nearly past when Kagano's gate began rapidly dropping. A pair of other individuals rolled under just in time. The taller, a long-haired female in armor, glanced at her anguishing over the deceased spy she'd called "grandpa".

"Come on Kasia," a woman shouted, "Don't take the girl and—"

The tall woman picked her up, squirming and all, and ran…

* * *

Anna shouted in objection, "Let me go this instant!"

The tall woman seemed to ignore this for the fortieth time, and Anna was close to giving up. She'd been picked up by this woman at Kagano's gates, and now, kilometers later, she had no idea where she was or who she'd been kidnapped by. The only thing she did know was that her captor spoke perfect Comnenian, so Anna's words would surely be understood. It was pitch black out, and thus she couldn't see anything very well with the medicine hindering her senses.

"Don't you know who I am? I demand you let me down this instant and—"

The tall woman stopped abruptly and set her down. Anna found herself in a moon-lit clearing beside a river, surrounded by nine taller individuals. Her kidnapper walked away for a moment while a woman with a massive sword came forward; she had the silver eyes of a slayer.

Anna boldly spoke up, "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The tall slayer threatened, "I'm going to knock you out if you don't shut up!"

Anna's kidnapper turned back to intervene, "Rima, just let me deal with her. She's—"

"You let her scream her head off the whole way here Kasia, and thanks to that, those four Dragonkin behind us couldn't have lost our trail if they'd tried. I say we—"

"Commander Lillian," Anna's wavy-haired kidnapper said, "I promise she'll be quiet if you just let me talk to her."

A voluptuous and bizarrely strawberry blond-haired female slayer walked up and looked over Anna dubiously. Anna had never seen such a gorgeous slayer in her life.

"Why in the world did you pick up this screaming piece of annoyance Kasia?

"Well, it was just sort of instinct commander," the sheepish, bass-voiced Kasia admitted.

"Kasia, now is NOT the time to be strangely maternal over a stranger," the commander huffed.

"But—"

"Don't give me lip Kasia. I want her sedated and then we'll decide what to do with her."

Anna began running for it when she tripped over someone and fell to the ground. A moment later she found herself pinned to the ground. She was turned over and force-fed some bad tasting liquid. She nearly choked after swallowing it, and was saved by Kasia's smack to her back. Her vision was fast blurring, and within moments, she felt sleep take her.

* * *

Anna opened her eyes; her senses still blurred by whatever they'd drugged her with. But even with blurred senses she could not fail to notice someone above her. A brown-skinned female slayer was kneeling next to her, busily sniffing. A knot of fear ripped through Anna as she jumped back, away from the tall warrior.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the wavy-haired Kasia sighed. "I'd appreciate it if you don't scream. I barely managed to convince Commander O'Malley to let you stay with us, and if you do it again she said she's sending you to the Smokowcy."

Anna, despite her mind's haze, was keenly aware that she was perilously close to being sent back in captivity if she didn't behave.

"Alright," Anna quietly agreed. "Um, are you named Kasia?"

"So you remember my name," Kasia sighed. "Yes, I'm the one who 'kidnapped' you."

Anna noticed Kasia's left cheek was scarred, the number 3141 branded into it in a raw pink. Kasia's face still had its beauty despite being marred, and Kasia's cute, if scarred, face was complemented by gorgeous long, wavy brown-blond hair. Kasia's body was somewhat lanky, given her considerable height and long legs.

Anna in her curiosity couldn't resist asking, "What happened to your cheek?"

Kasia explained, "My trainers disliked my resistance to being branded, so they gave me this. You know, you haven't exactly told us your name," Kasia noted.

"My name is Anna," she lied to Kasia. "Are we going back to the Alliance of Nations?"

"We will once we can find a way through the border," Kasia admitted, sitting back. "You're a very strange girl; why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I saw a lot of slayers when I was younger," Anna admitted.

"Ah hah," a female voice interjected, "just as I suspected. Kasia, give our little tag-along a dunk in the mountain stream."

Anna turned to find the gorgeous black-leather-and-armor-wearing Commander Lillian O'Malley standing behind her, her hair now a luscious strawberry-blond. Kasia grabbed Anna with quiet strength and hoisted her into the sun-filled air.

Anna objected, "Hey, hey, stop it, what are you doing?"

She found herself being lugged a short distance downhill. All around was a picturesque alpine valley. They were not far from the rugged mountain peaks above, and Anna noticed a cool alpine stream she was being carried straight towards.

Anna screamed in objection, "No, no, let go, you can't dunk me, its child abuse!"

"I thought you wanted us not to send you back to the Smokowcy," Lillian remarked. "You can resist being dunked or go to them."

Anna reluctantly stopped resisting and found herself unpleasantly tipped into the cold stream. A few dunks and half gasping screams later, Kasia hoisted Anna, sopping wet and cold, out of the stream. She was carried back to a sparsely populated camp and had blankets put over her by Kasia and was warmed by the campfire.

"Just like I thought," Lillian remarked, grasping one of Anna's strands of hair, "pure blond. So Miss Anna, why were you dying your hair? It wouldn't happen to be the same reason why we ran into four Smokowcy so soon after Kagano, would it?"

Anna squirmed, "Um, well, you could say I escaped from the Grand Alliance."

Lillian towered over her, pressing the inquiry, "So then, what kind of twelve-year-old would merit pursuit by four Dragonkin?"

"Ummm," Anna stammered, unsure how to answer.

"I couldn't hear your answer Princess, why don't you speak up," Lillian goaded.

"Hey, how did you know that?"

Kasia interjected, "Wait, you're a princess?"

"Yes, Corporal Romanowa, meet Princess Bastia Domka Komnen," Lillian said, smirking.

Kasia looked totally shocked, her eyes wide, "But wait, don't they call themselves the'Royal Family of Comnenus'?"

A male slayer with short white-blond hair and a lean build walked up, "They've Bretonized the name Kasia and made it like my first name, James. Comnenus is just another form of Komnen."

"Oh," Kasia remarked, and then turned back. "Your Highness, why did you lie to me?"

"Because I didn't know if you were friendly or traitorous slayers," Bastia admitted. "Now that everything's clear, my first order is—"

"Not a chance," Lillian scoffed. "You were hybridized as a gesture of good faith in the Alliance of Nations. King and Queen Comnenus made it very clear that you were not to be treated differently."

Bastia felt her anger rising, "How would you know?"

Lillian flashed her an annoying smirk, "Well, since I was once Victoria McKenzie's protégé, she kept me informed when some haughty ten-year-old slayer entered her squad and wouldn't shut up about getting opportunities to fight."

"I am a Princess, I am entitled to—"

Kasia interjected, "How did you get captured Your Highness?"

Bastia felt her defiance melt in the face of Kasia's question, "Um, well, you see, I was tagging along behind Commander McKenzie during a mission…"

"Yes, but you did so against her orders," Lillian reminded. "You took yoki pills to hide from detection and when the mission got ambushed by ten Smokowcy, they had to flee. You then got captured, so there will be no recklessly charging off while I'm in command. Just because you're a princess doesn't mean you're special here."

Bastia felt stung but bit her lip.

"In the meantime, we're trying to find a way past the four Smokowcy guarding the mountain pass back to the Alliance of Nations," Lillian informed her.

Kasia spoke up, "Commander, if we can't sneak past them, could we take them out?"

Lillian gaped, "Have you lost your—"

"There's only one way to supply those Smokowcy with food since we're near the front lines. If we raid their supply line, we can starve them and force them to move," Kasia explained.

"That might be the most brilliant thing I've ever heard of to beat Dragonkin," Lillian complimented.

* * *

Kasia smiled as she finished, watching Dietrich with bemusement. Dietrich, wearing a flashy white and gold-embroidered dress, seemed puzzled. They were in the Praha Palace's throne room, which was abandoned and otherwise unused at the moment. It featured dozens of stained glass windows along its high hall, a fine marble floor revealed in the light. Given Dietrich's information about the yoki manipulator and illusionist Raftela, Kasia had naturally surrounded the room with Imperial Guardsmen and dozens of Silver Guards.

She was seated at the head of an old oak table half the room's length. Dietrich was listening while seated atop the table beside her. Dietrich, in Kasia's opinion, had both an awkward name and hairstyle. Dietrich's hair was pinned on either side, draping down just past her shoulders. Her bangs were diagonally cut, which struck Kasia as odder than even Dietrich's masculine name. Thankfully Dietrich's questionable fashion sense had been aided by Colonel Tusk's good taste. It made enduring Dietrich's insatiable curiosity easier when Dietrich was well-dressed.

Dietrich queried, "So what happened after you made the decision to hit the supply line Your Highness?"

Kasia cut short the story, "We hit their supply line for two weeks and we were able to complete our mission. Now then, it's time I stopped telling stories and got back to work."

"But," Dietrich objected.

"I have to set up the Imperial Police expansion into Visegrad, and I believe you need to send a message to Wenceslaus," Kasia informed Dietrich.

Dietrich looked surprised, "Message?"

"Empress Katarzyna has granted you the privilege of one message to Wenceslaus by any means you wish," Kasia informed the short Countess. "You may go now; I've work to complete."

"Yes, of course Your Highness, and thank you," Dietrich sighed, hopping off the table and bowing from the waist.

Dietrich left with a curious glance back, escorted out by a personal escort of ten Silver Guards and dozens of Imperial Guardsmen. The doors to the throne room closed and Kasia let out a breath of relief. Out from the shadows of the room's support columns walked James Havel, his white-blond hair cropped short like she liked it. He was holding his helmet to a side while dressed in his duratium armor and black leather best.

James sighed, "Why do you find it necessary to tell this Hrabina our life story?"

Kasia sighed, "She reminds me of myself; but she lacks the killer instinct. I can smell it on her; she's got the air of a girl who's morally compromised. There's something she's ashamed of, and once Andrei and Audrey Tuluzy find what that is, it'll be interesting to know how she handles me discovering it."

James asked, "What about yourself dear? What happens when this Countess discovers you've begun to whitewash your stories? You remember what we did to those half-dead Dragonkin after we starved them of supplies for a month?"

"Put them to the sword," Kasia replied, looking James in the eye. "I remember it well James. They didn't have the strength to fight us; it was all very anti-climatic. Is this another one of your sermons about my sins? Would you have preferred those Smokowcy survived to kill another day?"

James sighed, "I understand you don't like me lecturing on morality dear—"

"Particularly when you're hardly better off than me James," Kasia pointed out.

"I know," James admitted, his voice rising in annoyance. "But maybe we should stop playing this ridiculous game with the Countess. It won't look good when—"

"I know, James, dammit I know. You know how crucial it is we understand Wenceslaus' motives. We couldn't get a spy into his inner circle, so she's the best unwitting informant we have. We know far too little of Wenceslaus or Sergei's intentions."

"Speaking of Sergei, do you think he had anything to do with the attack upon the Countess?"

"If we find any solid proof he was behind the attack, he's about three hours away from termination," Kasia noted. "It'd be a terrible waste of his talents though. As for the Countess' attacker, I've got an entire team of spies looking for her. I only hope Wenceslaus doesn't overreact to the attack. Both Sergei and Wenceslaus are ready to kill one another on a hat's drop, and the last damn thing I need is those two starting an internal war against one another."

"So I assume then that this contest heating up is why Sergei was summoned here for next week," James remarked, "but why exactly did Wenceslaus also get invited?"

* * *

Dietrich had left Praha Palace dissatisfied, as Princess Kasia had absolutely no interest in confirming anything about a marriage to Havel. Princess Kasia had even tried to conceal something as Dietrich had entered the otherwise unused throne room. It made Dietrich suspicious of Kasia.

Kasia had ended what was shaping up to be her most interesting tale yet; the tale of how she met Princess Bastia, the only Imperial Family member even Wenceslaus was wary of. Only a little while after Kasia and Rima had joined the ranks of slayers, they'd met Bastia, the third of four members of the Imperial Family. That left only Kasia meeting Katarzyna, which Dietrich felt sure she'd hear about one way or another.

The story had been cut short by Princess Kasia this evening, which was not at all characteristic. It was just like Wenceslaus had warned her: "The things they're hiding are the most important things of all to discover." Dietrich suspected the Dragonkin Kasia's tactics had starved of food had met a rather grisly end. After all, as Kasia had already let drop her philosophy of doing anything to survive, and Dietrich doubted such an individual would let enemies survive.

The most disconcerting thing about talking with hybrid warriors from the mainland was how nonchalant they were about killing humans. For Dietrich, raised to protect human life at all costs, Kasia's disinterest in thinking about killing humans made her queasy. She'd left the palace after Princess Kasia's abrupt dismissal and arrived home.

She arrived to find Tusk had moved in since she'd been home last. He was busily ordering the servants about on preparing a meal and cleaning up the manor when she'd arrived. She couldn't object; after all, she'd walked in wearing the white and gold-embroidered dress he'd bought for her.

Tusk had organized a grand party and ball in the space of the day, which rather astounded Dietrich. The guests showed up soon after she'd arrived, and soon she was talking to all sorts of people she'd never thought of speaking to. They were all familiar with Tusk, and kept awkwardly asking about her relationship with him. She began to appreciate a little why it was Kasia had declined to talk about her possible marriage.

It was nearing midnight when all the guests had finally left, leaving Dietrich feeling a little drained. Despite this, she joined Jaroslaw for a drink of wine out in the manor's garden, which, as luck had it, had a great view of Praha Palace far above.

"So my dear Hrabina," Tusk said, "what is troubling you?"

"I talked to the Silver Guard's Lieutenant Commander, Havel, this morning," she admitted. "He said he'd sedated you."

"Oh," Tusk remarked, "I was wondering why I fell asleep after drinking that wine."

Tusk took to smelling his wine and then took a swig.

"I asked him why, if he'd loved Princess Kasia, he propositioned the empress," Dietrich explained.

Tusk smiled, "The man may be hypocritical, but many males have been bitten by the very same desire. I've lost track of the number of males, human and slayer, who have claimed to fallen in love with the empress."

Dietrich took a swig of wine from her own glass as she looked up at the brilliantly-lit Praha Palace on the top of the plateau above.

Dietrich decided to drop her bombshell, "I asked James Havel why he wasn't engaged to Princess Kasia, and he told me they're married!"

Tusk, in the midst of drinking his wine, choked on his drink until Dietrich smacked him on the back. He coughed up the wine for several seconds before his breath returned.

Jaroslaw seemed somewhere between shocked and outraged, "You can't be serious! How am I supposed to believe such an outrageous claim as Princess Kasia being secretly married? What's next, you're going to claim the empress is secretly married as well?"

Dietrich fumed, "I am being perfectly serious Jaroslaw!"

"Alright, fine, tell me what he said while you had no witnesses around," Tusk demanded.

"When I asked about why Havel and Princess Kasia weren't engaged, he said it was because they hadn't divorced," Dietrich explained, her arms crossed in annoyance at Tusk's disbelief.

"My dear Hrabina, what you're saying would be a huge scandal," Tusk said. "How can you be so sure that Havel was telling you the truth?"

"It sounds like the truth because he was already romancing Princess Kasia years ago, back when she was just fifteen," Dietrich said. "Maybe sometime during the last twelve years she reciprocated his feelings and they got secretly married. I even saw Princess Kasia fiddling with something ring-shaped when I arrived at the palace. Even you have to admit there's something between them Jaroslaw."

"Princess Kasia's marriage is being arranged by the Cesarzowa," Tusk objected. "For her to have secretly married Havel would risk the Imperial Family's reputation at the least."

Dietrich raised an eyebrow, "And at the worst?"

"Look my dear Hrabina, the Imperial Family's future depends on arranging the marriages of its members to the most powerful male slayers. I don't think you should go around talking about this," Tusk warned, "you don't want Princess Kasia as your enemy, trust me. You didn't tell anyone else about this did you?"

"Ummm," Dietrich stammered.

"Please tell me you didn't directly ask Princess Kasia about this," Jaroslaw pleaded.

Dietrich couldn't quite manage to look the handsome Jaroslaw in the eyes.

Tusk quickly came to the logical conclusion, "You are a damn disaster when it comes to your curiosity. When are you going to learn there are some things it doesn't pay to know?"

"But she didn't even give me an answer," Dietrich defended. "She denied it and just moved the conversation to another topic. I don't think—"  
"No, you are NOT going to bring this up again, especially since I'm sure there were plenty of onlookers there," Tusk declared. "Princess Kasia may not have the Crown Princess' temper, but she doesn't forget things that endanger her standing."

"Alright," Dietrich huffed, "but don't blame me if Havel's loose lips blow this scandal wide open. At least Duke Wenceslaus doesn't have to worry about me in comparison."

"I don't know about that," Tusk demurred. "You're plenty talkative in bed."

"That is completely different," Dietrich crossly replied.

A male servant walked hurriedly up to Jaroslaw and bowed, "Sir, you've been summoned for a night patrol around Praha Palace."

"My apologies my talkative Hrabina, but I must go," Tusk said, making a brief bow.

"I am not that talkative in bed," Dietrich grumbled, annoyed at Tusk's suggestion that she let things slip after intercourse.

Tusk left quickly while Dietrich watched, her arms folded in disapproval.

* * *

It was late, and Kasia was busily scribbling Imperial Police expansion plans on a clipboard in her palatial bed. She was dressed only in a black nightgown and lying on her belly. The bed was massive, being some many times as long and wide as she was tall. It was covered in black and gold sheets, her favorite colors; the colors of the Romanow Empire. An immense silver chandelier overhead lit the wood-floored room just enough to see by.

The massive bedroom, despite being stuffed full of furniture, felt relatively empty. The chandelier dimly lit the large room's distant corners. It felt terribly lonely at times working late at night, but there was always someone willing to remedy that situation.

The two-story tall bronze bedroom doors clicked open, which drew Kasia's wary glance. A Silver Guard entered in his finest armor, the male warrior removing his helmet respectfully. He had a slightly hawkish nose, an otherwise attractive face, short white hair, and a lean, athletic build. The Silver Guard closed the door, noticed her upon the bed, and made a respectful bow.

"Your Imperial—"

Kasia interjected, "That sounds rather forced James. Come on, there's no need to be so stuffy and formal around me. You're late by the way."

"I was signing off on all the new Silver Guards being hired," James sighed, walking forward. "Kasia, are you still working again?"

Kasia signed off on establishing a branch of the Imperial Police in Visegrad and turned.

"Oh quit complaining," Kasia snapped, "you only have to help run the Silver Guards. I'm stuck managing the empire, so don't give me grief about overwork. You know if it—"

James interrupted by sitting down beside her and kissed her on the cheek.

"You don't have to keep telling me," James sighed.

Kasia began signing off on expansion documents for the Imperial Police in other regions when James began walking towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?"

James turned, looking visibly annoyed, "I'm not sitting around while you work all night."

Kasia got up, wearing only her short black and gold nightgown, and wrapped her arms around James' armored shoulders. James stopped as she leaned in and rubbed her head against his while sniffing his neck.

"You wouldn't happen to be seeing another girl again would you?"

"Of course not," James snapped. "But if you keep being a workaholic I might OOOWWWW!"

Kasia had reached down and jabbed her fingers into James' leather-covered upper left arm to express her aggravation at his threat.

"You know I really shouldn't have to remind you about this," Kasia hissed.

James flinched as she withdrew her jabbing fingers.

"Kasia," James pleaded, "come on, you know I'm just joking."

"That is NOT a funny topic to joke about," Kasia reminded.

"Alright," James huffed, his shoulders slumping, "but you know why I wound up with—"

"Yes, yes," Kasia interrupted, "I know all about why you wound up sleeping with another female slayer. Come on, why don't you take your armor off and come to bed?"

"I wish you had said something like that ten years ago," James sighed.

"You weren't mature enough for my tastes ten years ago," Kasia lectured. "That and I had a couple problems," Kasia admitted.

James left the bedroom for the guest bedroom, where he audibly ditched his duratium-forged armor. Kasia walked back to the bed and resumed her work while lying on her belly. She heard James walk into the room and silently smiled. Abruptly a very warm, familiar male body lay down atop hers.

"Come on dear," James said, grabbing her stash of papers and throwing them off the bed. "There will be plenty of time for that in the morning. I didn't live to thirty just to see you waste away from over-work."

"Oh alright," Kasia yawned, "just be gentle."

Kasia could feel a part of James expanding against her through the nightgown. She enjoyed the erotic feeling of his heat pressing against her own.

"I should've known you were in the mood," James commented while taking off her nightgown. "You're wearing my favorite nightgown."

He stopped taking it off her when his hands reached her breasts. He massaged her chest with expertly, each rub, press and push causing her to involuntarily utter little moans. Kasia clutched at James' well-muscled thighs and turned to kiss James. He broke it off to pull her nightgown off her shoulders and raised arms.

Kasia laughed as James had some difficulty in disentangling his right arm from her now-freed nightgown. She turned around and tackled James. Somehow, over the course of several minutes of passionate foreplay, they wound up under the covers together with James atop her.

He pushed down, and with a surge of pleasure, Kasia embraced James on an even more passionate level. His heat pushed down into her womanhood and then pulled back. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he thrust yet again. A surge of pleasure overwhelmed her as she sensuously rubbed against James below.

James let out a moan as he pushed further while Kasia gasped. Things continued to heat up as Kasia felt her legs beginning to be slickened by sweat. Time began to blur for Kasia as their lovemaking turned more frenzied. Eventually they'd switched positions, and James began to renew his thrusts up into her. They were trying to kiss, which was difficult, given the pleasurable distractions of their intercourse and James' hands fondling her chest. The pleasure must have been too much, for a moment later she moaned as her womanhood spasmed.

"Oh god," James exclaimed. "Whatever you do, don't stop."

Kasia realized in alarm that James was beginning to climax himself.

"Wait James—"

She tried to pull away, but James wasn't about to stop, and with a pleasurable and alarming spasm, she felt him shoot. He released his seed into her again, a third time, and then a final time. He pulled off her wearing a very satisfied smile, as well he might. Kasia's mood however was both exultant in the pleasure of the moment and yet fearful of its possible consequences. James lay down atop her, resting his head atop her breasts.

"This is why you need me," James sighed. "Most male slayers would've given up on a female slayer as work obsessed as you are. I take it as a challenge to get you off-schedule."

Kasia looked down when she felt something sticky, "James, do you mind washing up? Good grief, just how much were you holding in James?"

James sighed as he looked down, "Well, I'm sorry, but you made me hold back for two weeks. I'm not the only one who needs to clean up though."

Kasia's stomach churned for a moment as she realized how big a risk of pregnancy she'd just taken. Despite all of her logic screaming at her to stop, she found herself unable to give up the relationship. Worse still, she'd kept bedding James, even though a pregnancy by him would be a political disaster for the empire.

She followed James to the master bathroom's shower and washed off together with him.

"James," Kasia sighed, "we can't keep doing this."

James didn't respond for a moment, deciding to remain silent, his expression ashen.

"Rima is already getting suspicious, and if she manages to say a word to Bastia, this will all be over," Kasia stated.

James put his hands on her shoulder, "I don't care. You keep calling a baby a complication; I call it the natural progression of our relationship. I didn't wait years for us to become a couple only to hear we can't stay together for political reasons!"

"James, believe me, if it was not politically—"

"Then make love to the political man of your dreams and leave me already," James shouted. "Why do you say these things and then never follow through?"

Kasia slumped to the shower's tiled floor and cried, "You idiot, do you think I want to leave you? I don't have a choice. If I don't marry a male slayer who's an extremely strong fighter, the imperial family will be vulnerable to attack by other slayers."

"I can protect you just fine Kasia," James reassured, kneeling before her with a look of sympathy. "God always meant us to be together."

Kasia dejectedly scoffed, "did God mean for me to help slaughter the High Command? Did he mean for Bastia to kill her parents? Did he mean for me to lead armies and kill hundreds of thousands of people? Where was your god when my father was killed?"

"God works in mysterious ways," James said, "and I must not judge his designs."

Kasia snapped, "So he meant for you to kill that girl?"

Kasia felt a sharp slap hit her face, a spray of blood hitting the side of the shower. James' fury was broken almost immediately as he realized what he'd done.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," James apologized, wiping away the blood. "please don't hurt me for this Kasia, I was just overcome—"

Kasia wiped away some blood and ordered, "Go to bed James."

Her order lingered in the air as the nude James stood up looking crestfallen and guilt-wracked. He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he knew better than to tempt her temper after what he'd just done.

Kasia watched James leave for bed as stoically as she could and then quickly healed and cleaned up the blood. She glanced towards the doorway to the imperial bedroom and sighed. She soon felt tears streaming down her cheeks; the last thing she wanted to do was leave James. It was incredibly painful to tell him she had to, and to make matters worse she'd provoked him. She felt horrible and yet angry at James at the same time. He just didn't understand her reasoning at all.

He knew she wasn't a believer, and yet he kept spouting off about how God meant it to be. She could never believe likewise; she'd seen too much to believe the caring god James believed in could exist. She wiped away the tears, turned off the shower, and dried off. She wrapped a towel around her body and another around her hair. Kasia found James snoring and already asleep upon the bed. There came a knock on the bedroom's bronze doors to her right.

Kasia walked across the room and took a glance through the door's small peephole. Outside were two Silver Guards, Silver Guard Commander Katja Tymoshenko alongside a male subordinate whose name Kasia couldn't yet remember. They were dressed in full armor but looked relaxed. Kasia opened the door.

Katja made a quick bow, while her male subordinate made an even lower bow. He seemed somewhat shocked, as Katja was not, to see an Imperial Family member in a bathrobe.

"I assume you're here because you have a report," Kasia stated.

"Yes, we are C—"

"That's enough Katja, I don't need you to list off my titles when I'm in a bathrobe," Kasia commented. "How are the new security arrangements working out?"

"Nothing remarkable to report," Commander Tymoshenko said, a small smile spreading across her brown-skinned face.

"Good," Kasia replied, "back to your duties then."

Kasia closed the door and began reading through the report with some interest. She slipped away from the bed and towards the bedroom's attached grand balcony. She was just finishing reading the report when she felt her vision blurring. Kasia shook her head and glanced towards the bed. James was still there, fast asleep. She read a detail in the report that made her annoyed at James; very annoyed at James.

"Goddamnit James, you fool, is this why I'm having questions about us from Dietrich?"

She turned back to the report as he kept sleeping.

"Good evening Kasia," a female voice interjected.

Kasia looked up in disbelief to find Lillian standing only a few meters away. Lillian was wearing the same red dress she'd worn when they'd seduced the three officers during the Kagano and had her luscious hair dyed a rich red. Even Lillian's eyes were back to their normal color of blue. Kasia could hardly believe her eyes.

"Lillian, aren't you dead?"

"Why did you do it Kasia? Did I have to die because I wouldn't swear fealty? You and me were always meant to be friends," Lillian cried.

"I…I wanted you to become one of us, a Romanow," Kasia admitted. "But you killed four of my followers, and…"

Lillian advanced on Kasia, but Kasia didn't fear this Lillian's approach.

"I would've joined if only you'd asked the right way," Lillian said.

Lillian touched Kasia on the shoulders and smiled. "I wanted to see you one last time—"

This Lillian was abruptly tackled by James, who was only wearing trousers and a loose white undershirt. Kasia suddenly found Lillian replaced by a black-clad individual who was engaged in a fierce struggle with James.

Kasia yelped in surprise, falling backwards as James tussled with the assassin. They kicked James off in desperation and drew a curved blade. James dodged the attack and grabbed Kasia's personal blade off a nearby sofa. He blocked a down stroke with ease and swung. The assailant jumped over the swing and James, heading straight at Kasia.

Kasia screamed out for help, "Guards, guards, there's an assassin!"

A dozen Silver Guards crashed through the bedroom's bronze doors at once, toppling them with brute force. The assailant stopped in her tracks and barely deflected James' next attack. The lean, black-masked female assailant had silver eyes, which Kasia only glimpsed for a moment. The assailant ran for her life as the nearest Silver Guards charged towards her.

The assailant ran towards the grand balcony, barely dodging the lethal intents of four separate Silver Guards. The assassin crashed through a closed balcony window and to the outside. Some four dozen Silver Guards rushed past after the assassin, while two stopped next to James and Kasia.

"Oh no," James exclaimed, looking down at her.

Kasia felt a numb pain in her left shoulder and looked over. There was a long knife stuck in the shoulder up to its hilt. James pulled out the knife and turned to the pair of Silver Guards.

"Get her doctors immediately," James screamed, sounding frantic and distressed.

One ran off while the other stayed as hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen flooded into the room. Kasia felt the voices growing more distant, her senses ever more dulled, and her eyes ever harder to keep open.

The last thing Kasia remembered before sleep took her was James screaming, "Inform the Crown Princess immediately! There's going to be hell to pay for this!"

* * *

Dietrich was awakened by the whir of a siren. She got up in her bedroom and rushed out to her fifth floor balcony. The siren was coming from Praha Palace, and was soon followed by others all around the city of Praha. The streets not far from the balcony were suddenly being blanketed by countless Imperial Guardsmen and Imperial Army soldiers. Movement along the slopes beneath the Praha Palace caught Dietrich's eye. A single individual was skidding down the slope, just barely visible in the moonlight.

Dietrich could hardly believe her eyes as she realized it was the assailant from the week prior. She ran back into her closet, dropped off her nightgown, and stuffed herself into her Organization warrior's outfit. She grabbed her massive claymore sword from underneath the bed and jumped over the balcony and into the manor's gardens.

Dietrich ran through the gardens, right out the gate past a surprised Colonel Tusk, and out into the cobblestone streets of Praha. She had lost sight of the assassin, so Dietrich cleared the roofline to find the assassin had just reached the bottom of the slope beneath the palace. There came the whistling of crossbows, the assassin barely running out of range as thousands of crossbow bolts hit the dirt. Following the assassin down were some four dozen Silver Guards, many of whom were stalled by the dangers of descending the slope.

Dietrich began running and jumping across rooftops towards the assassin. As she ran Dietrich saw hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen converging on the street where the assassin was running. The assassin cut left, crossing over gaps between homes and over narrow streets at great speed. Dietrich followed, nearly falling off a roof when its shingles gave way. She let out a curse, got up, and resumed the chase. The assassin jumped and flipped over a tall chimney. Dietrich followed seconds later, landing awkwardly, but kept going despite the pain. Dietrich barely felt any exhaustion as the assassin began to gasp a little for air.

Dietrich made a flying jump, knocking the assassin flat against a shingled roof. Dietrich was kicked off by the assassin but managed to pull the assassin's mask off. A familiar face came into view as Dietrich got up and readied her sword for a fight. The female slayer had two long strands of straight blond hair, a stoic face with a high hairline, a pointy nose, and jutting chin.

"Raftela," Dietrich hissed, "what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Raftela didn't say a word, reacting by taking out a nasty short, curved sword that looked to be duratium-forged like a claymore blade. Raftela's face was marred within seconds by veins popping out as Dietrich realized what was happening.

"Oh no, you're not doing that to me," Dietrich said, charging Raftela.

Dietrich made a swing, which somehow didn't connect. Instead Dietrich felt a small prick as Raftela's blade nicked her thigh. Dietrich, a second later, barely noticed Raftela's blade in time, ducking underneath with centimeters to spare. Dietrich kicked out onto her feet, faced Raftela, her heart pounding with adrenaline. Dietrich managed to deliver a downwards slash upon Raftela's smaller blade, although her vision was beginning to alarmingly blur.

Raftela kicked Dietrich in the stomach, bowling her over. Dietrich nearly fell off the roof, but stopped herself with a fortunate stab of her sword into the roof. Dietrich found Raftela above her, her sword raised in preparation to execute Dietrich. Suddenly Raftela hesitated, casting a worried glance at something further away.

"You have the most incredible luck," Raftela complimented, and then turned to flee.

Dietrich pulled herself to her feet and took in a breath of air. A quick glance found the source of Raftela's worries; a dozen Silver Guards were running across rooftops towards her. They moved with ease, making the difficult appear effortless.

Dietrich returned to chasing Raftela, and a mere half minute later Raftela jumped down from the rooftops. Dietrich followed, closing the distance slowly as Raftela took a right and the walls came into view. A pair of Imperial Guardsmen in the street attempted to stop Raftela with expert jabs of their spears. Raftela calmly dodged the first's blows, jumped and cut him down. She beheaded the second Imperial Guardsman and kept running.

Dietrich had nearly caught up as Raftela approached the ladder to the first of Praha's walls. Suddenly a massive wave of yoki beyond anything Dietrich had ever experienced washed over her. She gasped in pain; it felt like she had four times her weight on her back. Raftela was hardly better off, as she was crawling forward towards the ladder in desperation. Dietrich just barely managed to get up as Raftela did so. A glance back saw the Silver Guards just coming into view, Dietrich guesstimating them to be a half kilometer back.

Raftela began climbing up the ladder as Dietrich tried to prevent being overwhelmed by the immense yoki all around. It was like a chase in slow motion as Dietrich approached the ladder. Unfortunately Raftela had adjusted faster and just reached the ladder's top, and looked to be on her way to an incredible escape.

A flying sword however disagreed, flying over Dietrich with a deadly whir and spearing straight into Raftela's neck. Raftela gave a short gasp, her body began to falter, and she fell off the ladder. Dietrich could only watch as Raftela's head hit the cobblestone street, the sword embedded in Raftela's neck bouncing as her head hit on its side. A pair of armored feet passed Dietrich by, whereupon Dietrich looked up to see Crown Princess Rima approaching Raftela.

Rima, dressed in her Silver Guard best, took the claymore out of Raftela's neck. Rima had a look of cold fury upon her face as she picked up Raftela's limp body with ease.

"Goddamnit, she's dead already," Rima commented. "Commander Tymoshenko, the bitch is dead. Get over here and have her body and clothing searched for evidence. I want every piece of scum behind this attack found and killed!"

Dietrich was gasping for breath, as Rima's yoki was so close and immense it was nearly killing her through its strength. Commander Tymoshenko grabbed Dietrich and hoisted her up.

"Crown Princess," Dietrich exclaimed, looking in alarm at three immense approaching creatures.

"Its fine Hrabina," Rima reassured, toning her yoki down to more tolerable levels. "Those are the empire's only tamed Smokowcy. We captured their eggs years ago, and we've raised them to be loyal to us."

The three Dragonkin were massive, standing just over two stories tall, each looking curiously at Crown Princess Rima. They were almost full grown; all that was missing was the fin-like back spikes and the greater size of adults. The largest Dragonkin approached with some fifty Silver Guards walking up alongside.

"Crown Princess," it rumbled, "what are your orders?"

Rima ripped off a piece of black clothing from Raftela's body and threw it into the Dragonkin's immense outstretched hand.

"Duchess, I want you, Sturm and Drang to get a good sniff of this bastard's clothing, find out what path she took into the palace, and then backtrack along her scent trail," Rima ordered. "With any luck, we may find the asshole who ordered the attack."

The Dragonkin came together, taking deep sniffs of the clothing while Rima watched. They walked off with a tremendous set of thuds, their heads low to the ground and sniffing like bloodhounds. They disappeared back into the city while most of the Silver Guards ran around into defensive positions around the Crown Princess.

"Crown Princess," Dietrich said, having rummaged through Raftela's pockets and found some coins, "look, she was carrying Allianzmarks!"

Rima scowled, grabbing the coins, "Way too obvious. Kasia always said the best assassin would never have evidence on them to tie them back to their masters. There's almost no way the Grand Alliance was able to carry this off."

"But," Commander Tymoshenko interrupted, "we should investigate that possibility."

Dietrich queried, "Crown Princess, might I ask who it was that was attacked?"

"This bitch," Rima said, hoisting Raftela's limp body up, "put my beautiful sister Kasia into a coma. If we don't get her out of it in weeks, she'll die. The Cesarzowa cannot afford to lose Kasia; she absolutely cannot afford to lose her."

Dietrich asked, her stomach clenching in a mess of fear and shock, "How can I help?"

Rima bent down and looked Dietrich in the eye, "Get Wenceslaus here immediately."


	7. Chapter 6: The Adventures of Natalie

**Chapter 6: The Adventures of Natalie**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**Chapter 4: "Caught between the Superpowers"**

**"Rabona, capitol of the Dominion of Toulouse, found itself in an extremely unpleasant strategic situation in 3 A.L.E., a mere three years since the Organization's destruction. Six months after Phantom Miria's comprehensive victory and a week after her wedding the Dominion of Toulouse was contacted by the Grand Alliance. The Grand Alliance was collectively the greatest power in the world, with roughly twenty thousand Dragonkin, five hundred million citizens, and armed forces' numbering over twenty million in strength. When it demanded the half a million citizen-strong Dominion of Toulouse join in three years or face invasion, Rabona's leader Lord Mayor Zaehringen feared the worst.**

**Empress Katarzyna, having learned of the island's location from Baroness Dietrich Tuluzy, an ex-Organization warrior, rushed her own delegation to the island. The Imperial Ambassador, Count Andrei Tuluzy, immediately offered Lord Mayor Zaehringen assistance against the Grand Alliance. Zaehringen's fears were realized as the world's rising superpower, the Romanow Empire, entered the fray. He was caught in a nightmare as the two superpowers began to jostle for influence while the Toulousan Inquisition raged outside Rabona's walls.**

**The Romanow Empire was notably smaller than its rival, but was a far more dangerous opponent for the Grand Alliance than its predecessor, the Alliance of Nations. It had three hundred twenty five million citizens, just over ten thousand silver-eyed warriors, and a military numbering fourteen million strong. What concerned the Grand Alliance was that in just six months the Romanow Empire's forces had grown fifty percent. Worried that they could not match the empire's ability to mobilize, the leadership of the Grand Alliance decided to take down their opponent with unprecedented all-out offensives before the empire could match them in might.**

**The island of Toulouse was a longer-term project of both sides. With their navies' closely matched, the island's huge, untouched forests made it a tempting source of warship materials. The island, while remote, had excellent natural harbors which could hold naval fleets. The island also contained a treasure of a different kind: the Organization's archives. These the Romanow Empire secretly wanted access to while the Grand Alliance wished them destroyed. However, with the Toulousan Inquisition ongoing, the superpowers settled for beefing up their influence and plotting.**

**Lord Mayor Zaehringen and his top general, "Phantom" Miria faced the unenviable task of fighting a religious insurgency while the superpowers interfered in island affairs. Worse still, in the island's west, the hostile Kingdom of Lautrec lay, no doubt, they thought, waiting for the insurgency to weaken Rabona and allow them to conquer the island. Thus one week into the Toulousan Inquisition, Zaehringen called a meeting with Miria to plot a happier end out of their Sisyphean troubles. Unfortunately for them both, the superpowers plotting interrupted their best laid plans…"**

* * *

Miria had been recalled from Orleans to plan how they would crush the Toulousan Inquisition aimed at restoring the Rabona Orthodox Church's rule and an ultra-strict interpretation of the holy book. She had just arrived at the Lord Mayor's Residence when things went badly unplanned.

She was seated in the massive meeting room of the Lord Mayor's Residence, where the Council of Lords met. Rabona's Council of Lords was arranged around a grand circular, stained-oak table. Lighting the room was an enormous silver chandelier directly over the Council of Lords' table. The only other thing lighting the beautifully decorated maple-adorned room were the massive arched windows that looked out on Rabona's main square.

She had been meeting for the better part of four hours with Zaehringen and the Council of Lords, including her husband, Cid, when events took a chaotic turn. A servant had rushed in, breathless, and whispered into the graying Zaehringen's ear. Zaehringen had tensed up immediately, and moments later Miria knew why. Zaehringen sighed as the ambassadors of both the Grand Alliance and the Romanow Empire strutted into the room.

The silver-eyed Count Andrei Tuluzy of the Romanow Empire entered first. He was a striking male claymore, and was dressed in dark gray trousers, a pair of long brown boots, a black and gold-embroidered jacket, and wore white gloves upon his hands. His face had a strong jaw, which jutted forward, giving his face a very masculine look. Miria had little trouble imagining that a female claymore like his wife Audrey could be attracted to him. Andrei was also striking with his forehead-concealing long, blond bangs and a stature equal to Galatea's considerable height.

Walking in opposite Andrei was the shorter but clearly aristocratic Duke von Rundstedt. Rundstedt was a middle-aged man of refined tastes, with a wide, red and white-lined, tri-corn hat atop his fine dark brown hair. He possessed a pair of insightful blue eyes, and while not overly handsome it was impossible to miss him due to his unique goatee. He was wearing breeches, a rich red jacket with white buttons, black tights, silver-buckled shoes, and walked with the help of a cane.

Miria was sitting just behind her husband, Cid, in her finest armor when Andrei's shout jolted her awake from the meeting's tedium.

"I demand that the Grand Alliance's embassy be banished immediately," Andrei shouted in his foreign accent. "They have violated every rule of diplomatic protocol!"

Rundstedt had much the opposite opinion, "Lord Mayor Zaehringen, the only one of the superpowers to have violated your sovereignty is the Romanow Empire!"

Andrei gave the goateed Duke von Rundstedt a venomous look, "I was recently informed of an attack upon my Vice Ambassador, Baron Lazarov. He survived an attack by insurgents; insurgents using a Grand Alliance-manufactured weapon!"

A pair of Andrei's human assistants in more elegant versions of his own clothes walked forward when he motioned with one hand. They were holding what looked to Miria's eyes to be a crossbow she had seen used by Inquisition insurgents earlier against her and Colonel Nadia.

Raki, seated next to her in his armor and black leather, murmured with surprise, "What in the world is that?"

Andrei's ears must have heard Raki's remarks, for he remarked, "This, my lords," he nodded to the well-dressed Rabonese nobles, "is a Grand Alliance-style crossbow."

Sure enough, Miria noticed it looked exactly like the weapon she had called a crossbow. It had crossing support beams, and a bolt-action trigger that could hold the arrow taut while the user took aim. Count Tuluzy's aides dropped the weapon down on the circular table before the graying, bearded Zaehringen. Zaehringen, wearing some of his finest black and white robes, looked at the weapon and then at Rundstedt.

"That is a blatant fabrication," Rundstedt countered. "If anything is likely, it's the fact that the Romanow Empire is supplying the insurgency with crossbows."

Miria had come to the conclusion that Rundstedt lacked the guiles of his subordinate Rubel Louvre some time before. This illogical statement only added to that belief.

Miria questioned Rundstedt, "You expect me to believe that? Why would the Romanow Empire supply the Toulousan Inquisition with crossbows and then allow the weapons to be used against their Vice Ambassador?"

Rundstedt was flummoxed for a moment but recovered, "I… I assure your lordships that these crossbows are not the work of the Grand Alliance. In all likelihood the Kingdom of Breton has spread their piratical ways to this island and supplied these weapons. I believe the only reason why Ambassador Tuluzy is making these allegations is to cover up the fact that Vice Ambassador Lazarov was suspiciously traveling in the eastern lands near the Organization's archives!"

Andrei snorted in disagreement, scoffing, "it's true he was in the eastern lands, but he was still on his way to Rabona when he was attacked by insurgents using Grand Alliance-supplied crossbows. The insurgency is being directly aided by Grand Alliance—"

Rundstedt shouted back, "That is a blatant lie you've made to cover up for attempting to access the Organization archives. Your 'precious' Cesarzowa I don't doubt wants their contents, so when your Vice Ambassador was attacked by insurgents, you hatched a clever cover story to explain away his inconvenient location. Those actions constitute a direct violation of the Dominion of Toulouse's sovereignty. Lord Mayor, you must banish the Romanow Empire's embassy immediately!"

Zaehringen put on his black satin, white-plumed, baggy hat and sighed, "Honorable Ambassadors, until we have more proof of your allegations other than your bandying of words, both sides will remain. We will investigate the accusations of course," he reassured in a tired voice.

Rubel Louvre, wearing his black hat and sunglasses, rushed to Duke von Rundstedt's side as the ambassadors paused a moment to consult with their subordinates. The eleven members of the Council of Lords were about to start talking when Rundstedt let out a triumphant laugh.

"I have just been informed of a most fortunate event," Rundstedt said, excitement and happiness evident in his voice. "As of last week, the Grand Alliance launched the greatest set of land offensives in world history against the scourge of the Romanow Empire!"

"Offensives that will no doubt be crushed by Her Supreme Imperial Majesty just like all prior," Count Tuluzy shot back.

Miria's husband Cid remarked over his left shoulder to her, "What in the world is that Rundstedt doing?"

Rundstedt had kneeled down, appearing to remove something. The next moment he stood up, emerging with a silver-buckled black shoe in one hand. Rundstedt jolted everyone by smacking his right shoe against the table, "Your precious empress has been isolated from the command of her armed forces, Count Tuluzy."

"Your overconfidence will be your forces' doom," Tuluzy predicted.

Rundstedt smacked the table yet again with his shoe, "We will bury your empire Tuluzy! The downfall of that murderous, evil usurper is nigh! It should be clear to this Council who they should side with; the victors!"

Zaehringen shouted, "The two of you are out of order! This Council will decide whether to make alliances at our own discretion. Guards, Monsieur de Lautrec," Zaehringen said, addressing Raki and the Council's bodyguards, "take them out and escort them back to their embassies."

The ambassadors left in a huff, with Raki escorting them out alongside twenty guards. The hawk-nosed Lord Ruud van Willems breathed a sigh of relief.

"They certainly do hate each other," Willems said, offering a nervous smile from the right-hand side of Zaehringen. "What should we do Lord Mayor?"

Cid whipped his ponytail around to look at Zaehringen as Miria watched from the seat behind her husband.

"For the moment we'll let Lord Staufen handle the investigations," Zaehringen noted, nodding at a white-haired lord across the table. "Under no circumstances should we provide either of the superpowers with an excuse to invade this island. Thankfully for us the Kingdom of Lautrec has just agreed to a peace treaty, so at least we do not face immediate invasion."

Miria asked, "Do the orders concerning the insurgency still stand?"

Zaehringen snapped, "Yes!"

He stood to depart and hammered his gavel upon the table, "This meeting will come to a close. Lieutenant General, find out where these church zealots are getting crossbows like this," Zaehringen stated, patting the crossbow on the table.

He left under the escort of guards while the other lords followed except for Cid.

Cid yawned from exhaustion, "Dear, I hate to ask, but how are we going to secure our island home while this terrible insurgency is going on? I just found letters of resignation from half of our workers on the Île des Poires. They didn't think we can keep them safe from another amphibious attack by those church zealots. Surely we're not going to move all of our remaining servants back to our small Rabona manor?"

Miria grinned, "Actually, I was planning on fortifying the Île des Poires against attack."

Cid's exhaustion was immediately gone, "Wait, no, no, no, that's going to cost us a fortune. We don't have a million Francs to spend on fortifying and improving the island!"

Miria took out a small black bag and declared, "Oh, I don't think you'll be worrying about our finances much anymore dear. There's been a dramatic change in our fortunes."

Cid looked at the black satin bag and asked, "What do you mean our fortunes have changed? What could possibly have changed our fortunes that much?"

Miria dropped the bag in Cid's lap, "Why don't you open it and find out?"

* * *

Audrey decided she rather disliked standing and waiting. She might have been a Countess in the Romanow Empire, but she was also eight months pregnant. She was wearing her most comfortable black pregnancy dress, but the standing was agony on her back. She was just outside the red gothic, single-spired Lord Mayor's Residence in Rabona's main square. Her husband, Count Andrei Tuluzy, had gone into the building to confront Rabona's ruling body, the Council of Lords, with evidence that the Grand Alliance was helping the insurgency.

Judging by the look of annoyance upon her husband's face as he exited the building, it had not gone as well as hoped. She awkwardly walked over to her husband, who offered a hand to help her. She recovered her poise as he looked over her with a concerned air.

Andrei spoke in the empire's tongue, "Audrey, there's no need to exert yourself. You're eight months pregnant for pity's sake."

Audrey asked, "I am perfectly fine Andrei. Any luck?"

Andrei kicked a cobblestone loose, "Not much. I know those Grand Alliance bastards are helping the insurgency. Rundstedt apparently just got word of the invasion of our empire; the nepotistic bastard was making a ridiculous show about it. He thinks the empress is somehow going to be defeated despite never losing before."

Audrey sniffed, "Don't let him get under your skin sweetheart. I was going to ask if I could lead around some visiting merchants from the empire. You don't mind do you?"

"Are you okay with walking?"

"I can still walk Andrei," Audrey noted with some sarcasm, "it's the standing around I don't care for."

"Alright, alright," Andrei grinned, "just keep an eye out for Grand Alliance men."

He kissed her goodbye and headed back to the Romanow Empire's embassy, a large, six-story tall building on the right side of the square from the mayor's residence. Flying from atop the large, neo-gothic, limestone manor was the imperial flag. It was a black flag, with a double-headed, golden eagle in its center underneath a large, golden crown symbolizing the imperial monarchy.

In the square's center were four large stone obelisks, and on the opposite side of Rabona's central square was the Grand Alliance's even-larger, 8-story tall embassy in a Renaissance-style building. Flying atop it was the flag Audrey had come to hate since she had left Toulouse several years prior. It was a blood-red flag, and had distinguishing features marked in white. A bold, white-line circle wrapped around yet more red and two perpendicular swords. She found the black and golden-eagle flag of the Romanow Empire far prettier and less threatening.

She met fifteen merchants from the empire; all of them freshly arrived of course, given that the island's location had only recently been discovered. This was probably because the Alliance of Nations' High Command had never divulged the Organization's location to Katarzyna Romanowa. Audrey had just finished explaining that the embassy would help the merchants with learning the language when one of the merchants complained.

A young merchant of Siyamese descent scoffed while looking at the wares on offer in Rabona's main square, "Isn't there something in this backwater that isn't a century or two out of date? I mean, just look at this glass on offer. They don't even make mirrors!"

"I am aware that the people here are behind the times," Audrey responded a little testily. "Look at this as an opportunity to expand the empire's influence at the expense of the Grand Alliance. You can dominate all of these markets that the locals haven't discovered yet."

Another merchant dressed in red, Malaccan-style robes, asked, "Countess, could you translate the sign on that new shop opening a couple buildings over from the Grand Alliance embassy?"

Audrey led them over, past the massive Teresian Cathedral, and got a look at the sign. It read, in gaudy golden letters in a medieval font, "Société Royale des Mines de Toulouse".

"The sign says the store belongs to the 'Royal Toulouse Mining Company', Audrey translated while flicking a bang out of her eyes, "it looks like they're about to open it."

Audrey noticed there were nearly a dozen civilian guards around the shop entrance, which meant whatever the shop was selling it had to be valuable. The store took up the entirety of a five-story tall building built with a small turret and a steep gabled roof. The building featured numerous arched windows but surprisingly few windows at street level. In fact the front doors looked like bank vault doors. An elderly man was opening them as the merchants looked on in curiosity.

"I'd like to see what they have for sale," a female merchant stated.

Before Audrey could say anything, the fifteen merchants she was escorting all rushed inside just as the doors opened. She walked along behind into a beautiful store complete with plush green carpeting and…

Audrey gasped at what she saw on offer. It wasn't the fine silverware on offer, nor the quartz or even marble samples available. It was the sheer, shockingly huge quantity of diamonds; so many diamonds she couldn't quite believe her eyes. Everywhere, on every counter, were ceramic bowls holding piles of shaped and unshaped white diamonds, red rubies, blue sapphires, green emeralds, and even rare yellow diamonds on offer. The merchants she had escorted were like giddy school children in a candy shop.

They rushed over to have her translate their offers for the diamonds, "I want you to tell that cashier I'll take 100 kilograms for 300,000 Francs."

Audrey translated as best she could to the bewildered cashier, "Monsieur Patel voudrais acheter 100 kg de diamants pour 300.000 francs."

The cashier looked extremely confused and Audrey realized why when he asked what a kilogram was to her while gesturing at the merchant.

The man asked in Rabonese-accented Toulousan, "Excusez-moi, mais qu'est-ce qu'un kilo?"

Audrey immediately knew why he had no idea what a kilogram was; the unit of measurement in Toulouse was based on the confusing island system. She rather preferred the metric system used worldwide, but given the man's unfamiliarity, she had to compensate.

Audrey converted the order and said, "Ils voulaient dire qu'ils voulaient 220 livres de diamants pour 300.000 francs."

The cashier gasped, "Dites-lui que nous ne sommes pas à vendre des diamants pour un prix aussi élevé."

The merchant asked, "What did he say?"

Audrey clarified, "He said they're not selling the diamonds for that high a price."

Before the merchant in question could say another word the female merchant from earlier interrupted, "Tell that woman in the far corner I want one ton of emeralds, and I'm willing pay a million Francs," the female merchant declared.

Audrey did her best to cope with her demands to translate, and abruptly noticed Phantom Miria outside the shop. Miria did not linger long and Audrey was soon overwhelmed attempting to translate the demands of so many merchants. She sent to the embassy for some translation help. Eventually the extra translators were able to cope with the feeding frenzy going on, a frenzy made worse when twenty Grand Alliance merchants entered the store along with dozens of locals.

Audrey exited the shop an hour later, exhausted, to find a long-haired male claymore in a long black cloak, fine, dark gray trousers, brown leather shoes, and a gold-buttoned black jacket. He was slightly shorter than Audrey and not particularly handsome, but there was a charisma to him.

"Ah Vice Ambassador Lazarov," Audrey said, "you're not going to believe what's in there. They're selling—"

Lazarov interrupted Audrey, "Countess, your husband—"

"Never mind that," Audrey cut him off. "Lazarov, do you know how big the largest diamond supplier in the empire is?"

Lazarov gave his best answer, "All I know is that the empire's entire diamond supply is roughly five hundred tons a year. Why, is that shop selling diamonds?"

"Tens of tons of diamonds," Audrey informed the wide-eyed Lazarov. "They say they've got even more on the way. I would guess that would make them the world's largest independent diamond supplier."

Lazarov eyed the Grand Alliance embassy and its fluttering red flag, "Well, the people here had best hope we'll keep the alliance occupied. Once they get wind of this the Grand Alliance won't offer them membership; they'll invade them at the earliest opportunity."

* * *

Natalie had come back to Rabona following the attack on her island home of the Île des Poires. Her adoptive mother, the increasingly famous "Phantom" Miria, had bought the small manor a few months after they had arrived in Rabona. It was six stories tall, and now was stuffed full of furniture and trinkets. Natalie was on the top floor with her ever-growing tiger cub, Dabi, who was busily stuffing his face into a bowl full of fish. He was already larger than a normal house cat, a fact that was beginning to bother her mother.

Natalie was on top of her pink-sheeted bed, the color of which was already exasperating her new stepfather, Cid. Her room wasn't helping matters, as it featured big windows with plenty of pink curtains. Her four poster, white curtained, pink-sheeted, canopy bed was at the street-side part of the grand upper-floor bedroom. On the opposite end was a grand brick fireplace, and to reach it Natalie would have to walk across dozens of feet of fine stained maple floor.

The rest of the room was decorated with small bookcases, large wooden dressers, a full-body mirror mom had just bought off a Grand Alliance merchant, and even a grand globe of the world that her mom had bought. This Natalie could see from her bed, as it stood as tall as she was. It even rolled on its own set of wheels, with the spinning globe encased within its open structure. It might have looked huge in most homes; here, in her 14-foot ceiling bedroom, it looked almost too small.

Natalie was supposed to be busy starting her studies of some books her father had bought. They were books that were supposed to help her begin studies of the world's two major languages. Natalie had both books opened but hadn't touched them for an hour. She was too busy thinking about why something Captain Murat had said was bothering her. Murat had told his claymore fiancée Valencia that he had been missing for three days because of two things.

The first had been that he had been on active duty fighting the Toulousan Inquisition. It was his second excuse that bothered her. He claimed he had to go to his granduncle's birthday celebrations for two days. Somehow Valencia had bought his excuses, but Natalie knew better. Murat was hiding something, and she rather doubted it was another woman. The excuse was flimsy for a very good reason; after all, who spent two days at a birthday celebration?

Natalie glanced at the globe and decided to look at the map of the world. She slinked off the bed, landed, and then nearly tripped over her ornate green-and-gold dress. She recovered her balance, but not before wishing her parents would stop buying endless quantities of dresses for her. She got up and examined the star-like island of Toulouse. Rabona and the island had been hastily added to the globe. Rabona sat in the island's center and north of the city was marked the town of Orleans, where the Toulousan Inquisition had begun a mere two weeks prior.

Natalie suddenly had a thought strike her and hastily grabbed a pair of shoes and rushed out the door near the fireplace. She descended the stairs past a number of surprised maid-servants at a fast pace. She found her stepfather Cid, ponytail and all, in his formal Council robes meeting with an armored Raki and a slightly ill-looking Claire in her old warrior armor. They were in the third floor meeting room and it looked like dad was expecting someone, for he was looking towards the stairs when she arrived.

Natalie jumped into the awkward moment and asked, "Uh dad, do you know how many days it was after the inquisition started that the Île des Poires got attacked?"

Cid's eyebrows arched, "About five, hey, wait, Natalie, where are you going?"

"Merci," Natalie said as she quickly walked to the stairs. "I've got to talk to mom about something," Natalie lied.

She felt her heart flutter as Claire's silver-green eyes narrowed the moment she'd lied. Unfortunately telling the truth now was likely to stop her intuition from being proven right. She raced down the stairs before Claire could say anything. She was soon out the door and rushed over to the burgeoning citadel half a block to the north. It had once been Rabona's neglected 'old great keep', a single 6-story tower on the eastern side of Rabona's canal with a one-story protective curtain wall around a parade ground.

Now however its grounds were protected by a two-story wall and the single tower was now linked with three others of equal stature into a citadel. Natalie was allowed through the gates with ease by the guards, which was only natural considering she was the commanding officer's daughter. Natalie quickly ascended the stairway of the new eastern tower and found herself before a door marked "Les archives militaires", meaning 'the military archives'.

Natalie opened the wooden door to find herself face-to-face with the white-haired Commander Virginia, the straight-laced, silver-eyed Inspector General of the army. Virginia was wearing the gold-gilded pauldrons and outfit of a high-ranking officer, and Natalie found Virginia intimidating enough without them. Just over Virginia's beautifully armored shoulders were the dozens of shelves containing the active service records of officer in the army.

Virginia queried, "Natalie, why in the world are you here?"

Natalie for once found her lying ways abandoning her, "Uh well, I'm on an important mission."

Virginia's eyes narrowed, "Would this mission happen to have been approved by your mother? You know I can't just let you browse military archives without official orders Natalie."

Natalie remembered what her dad had told her about how to bluff your way past people.

"I'm on a secret mission, and mom says it's of great importance," Natalie lied.

Virginia however wasn't cooperating, "Would you happen to have a set of orders on you authorizing your access then?"

Natalie, frantic, decided to add an element of the truth to her explanation, "I'm under orders to check the records of a military officer mom suspects is a traitor. She's going to be mad I told you that; I wasn't supposed to say anything."

Virginia eyed Natalie skeptically but then relented, "So the general has been noticing the same thing I have."

Natalie, in genuine curiosity, asked, "What thing would that be?"

"We've had detachments of soldiers throughout the island being attacked whenever they're at their most vulnerable. It's uncanny really; it's almost as if the rebels knew where they'd be in advance and when to attack. Some of the other officers in the ranks are suspicious that someone is tipping off the inquisition. I think it's possible; I don't think the inquisition would have been so successful early on without some help. I wish you the best of luck in finding the bastard, if they exist that is."

Natalie soon found herself alone in a mountainous heap of military records. Thankfully they were well-organized in bookshelves by letter, and she soon dug up Captain Murat's service records. She was looking his records up because the granduncle birthday excuse didn't make any sense if what her dad said was true. There's no way, two days after the inquisition had begun, that Murat would have been granted approval to attend his granduncle's birthday celebrations for two days. How Valencia had bought that excuse Natalie could not quite understand. Of course it might have been Murat had been seeing another woman, so chances were she was wrong.

She finally arrived at the summary, finding nothing amiss. She flipped through the pages again, the next time finding his commendations page. On it was marked the "Medal of Rabona", the army's highest award for valor, for his actions at the battle of Kerouac Gorge and the night assault a week prior. Natalie sighed and began to think about how much trouble she'd be in when her mother found out she'd lied her way into the military archives when her fingers caught on something.

She looked down and noticed that it appeared two pages were stuck together. She picked them apart and her eyes widened. The hidden two pages concerned Murat's service over the last two months. The first month was unremarkable, but the second had details that interested her. For the five days after the insurgency had started and before the attack on the Île des Poires, Murat was listed on "special assignment" and "active duty".

"Liar," Natalie murmured.

However this was not enough proof to convict Murat of anything. Finding herself staring at a dead end and knowing full well she could be grounded for a year for her actions, Natalie decided to risk even more punishment to prove herself right. She left the archives and proceeded to find Murat's office. Natalie picked the wooden door's lock, a skill Helen had taught her, and one she had little doubt her mother would disapprove her knowing. The door clicked open silently as Natalie glanced back to find no one nearby to see her.

The spartan room looked out on the parade ground, now completely encased within a citadel of four stone towers and their adjoining wings. The room featured a large wooden desk, a tall hanger for jackets and the like, and some quill pens in a jar. There was even a picture of what looked like an artist's impression of the hairbun-loving Valencia in her armor over the door. Natalie took to searching the room but found little at first.

There were some rather clichéd love letters in one drawer of his desk to Valencia. Worse still were Valencia's hyperbolic love letters in return, which Natalie carefully put back. She found military notes and orders, some even in her mother's flowery hand. However, it was when opened the desk's bottom drawer that she found a single note. She had difficulty reading it in the small room's dim light, so she brought it close to the double-pane window.

It read, "Meet me at five PM in the usual spot at Belvedere Avenue. I'll be in the alleyway behind the hotel like always. F.M."

"Ah ha," Natalie crowed.

It was an ill-advised cry of triumph, "Sir, are you in there?"

A maid-servant was at the door, and Natalie frantically ducked underneath the desk to hide. A moment later the door opened and the maid-servant audibly walked in as Natalie stilled her breathing. The last thing she needed was to blow her plan by revealing herself and get into immediate trouble with her mother for trespassing.

The maid-servant called out, "Captain Murat? Sir, are you in here?"

A second woman's footsteps were audible now as the one girl walked around the desk. Natalie could see the maid-servant's legs as the girl walked into the window's light, which conveniently hid her in the darkness underneath the desk. Natalie felt her heartbeat rising from the fear of discovery.

"Stephanie," the other maid snapped, "what are you doing? This is an officer's room. We're not supposed to intrude in here when it's locked."

The maid-servant standing a mere two feet from where Natalie was hiding replied, "Sorry, but I could have sworn I heard someone in here a moment ago, and the door was unlocked. Don't you think that's strange Monique?"

"No, it's more than likely the captain forgot to lock his office door," Monique replied while out of Natalie's sight. "Come on Stephanie, it was probably another one of those 'phantom ghosts' you keep hearing," Monique mocked.

Stephanie sounded annoyed as she kicked underneath the desk and missed Natalie by mere inches, "All the other girls believed my ghost tales, why can't you?"

"I'm a skeptic by nature," Monique said.

Abruptly Stephanie's body was tugged out of Natalie's sight.

"Let's go ghost whisperer," Monique said.

A moment later the door clicked shut and Natalie slowly let out a breath.

She whispered in profound relief, "That was way too close."

* * *

Renée had just traveled what seemed an aggravatingly long time by her standards. The island of Toulouse she now knew in comparison to the main continent was not very large. From Rabona to Staff it was a 3-day march for a regiment of men in armor. It might have been a day's march further to reach the island's tip, a full eighty miles east of Rabona, which was located roughly in the island's center. From Rabona the island's four peninsulas stretched eighty miles out north, south, east and west. It gave the 'grand island' a width of a mere 160 miles at most in any direction.

In the western peninsula was the Kingdom of Lautrec, Rabona's old rival from the prior war. It had only recently concluded a peace treaty with Rabona, and the border between the Dominion of Toulouse and the kingdom was a mere twenty miles west of Rabona. However Rabona controlled the mostly unsettled northern peninsula, most of the Toulouse River valley in the island's center, and now, thanks to Miria's orders, would begin to expand to the eastern lands of Burgund.

Renée stopped her horse and took a look around at the dusty surroundings. There was a collection of arid foothills around. They were all dotted with caves, artificial chambers, and evidence of the long-past overthrow. Everywhere Renée looked through her small bronze telescope she could see crumpled structures and collapsed cave entrances.

"This is Staff alright," a female voice remarked nearby.

Renée put her telescope down and glanced down to find Clarice nearby, her red-brown hair shining in the brilliant sunlight. Clarice was wearing a chain-mail shirt, a pair of steel gauntlets, and holding her curved steel helmet in one arm. Next to her was the much taller Miata, who at age fourteen looked to be nearly as tall as Galatea and was beginning to add some womanish curves. The result of Miata's recent maturing was a company of supremely distracted pikemen passing by, or perhaps, Renée comforted herself, they couldn't make up their minds between her and Miata.

Renée called out to the approaching line of pikemen, "Alright men, I want this place searched, cleaned up, and fortified within the week. We'll start with searching it and finding everyone quarters for today."

A pair of captains in full plate-armor acknowledged Renée 's orders with salutes and rushed back to their companies. Miata in the meantime was looking wistfully at a number of the men. This didn't pass unnoticed however.

"Don't even think about it," Clarice snapped at her taller daughter.

Miata sighed and appeared to relax, so a moment later Clarice did as well.

Miata wasn't apparently done, as she glanced back wistfully and then slyly decided to stretch with the men behind her. The result of the stretch was to push up her armored skirt and provide all the men a good look at her underwear and butt. Renée knew flaunting when she saw it; apparently so did Clarice.

Clarice knocked Miata flat, "NO, stop that, you shouldn't go showing off at your age!"

Renée didn't have time to deal with Miata's issues, so she moved on, but not before hearing the exchange continue.

"But mom," Miata complained, "I've just turned fourteen! How come other girls can get engaged at fourteen and I can't?"

"Look, Miata, that's because those girls have no idea what they're getting themselves into or they don't have a choice," Clarice replied.

Renée grinned when she heard Miata mockingly repeat her mother's words, "That's because those girls have no idea what they're getting themselves into."

The last thing Renée heard as she turned the corner on the road into Staff was Clarice's faint response, "Don't you dare get smart with me young lady!"

Staff was much like Renée remembered leaving it; dry, dusty, and giving off an unsettling feeling despite no Organization members being around. It was also silent as they approached, which was not exactly how it was supposed to be if Miria's orders were correct.

One captain rushed up to Renée on horseback, "Colonel, there's no sign of the 13th Infantry Battalion. It looks like they and their stuff have completely vanished!"

Renée gasped, "Five hundred men do not just disappear, captain. I want the whole area searched for any sign of them, and be on the lookout for insurgents and other groups."

Miata and Clarice came rushing up as Renée stormed off towards Staff's main area. All around were signs of a struggle, but yet there were no bodies or blood to be found anywhere. Renée wasn't even sure the debris left behind was from a recent struggle; it all looked much older.

Miata asked, "Ma'am, what's wrong?"

"They're all gone, every single damn one of them," Renée cursed. "How in the world does a 500-man army battalion just disappear?"

Clarice, who was looking rather confused, questioned, "But wait, I thought we were sent here to secure the Organization archives. Weren't we supposed to be the first ones here?"

Renée busted down the wooden door to an Organization cave and walked inside. Clarice, Miata, and a whole company of pikemen followed as Renée was handed a burning torch. She glanced around the dark, rocky, creepy confines and then found some stairs. She descended these, drawing her sword to be safe, and walked into a much larger room.

Clarice pestered, "Colonel weren't we—"

"No," Renée answered. "The first thing we secured besides Rabona after our victory over King Charles was Staff. General Miria sent an entire battalion here to keep it out of the hands of anyone but us. They were sending us regular reports every two weeks for over seven months. I have their last report in my carriage from just twelve days ago."

Miata commented, "It smells funny, as if someone's been in here recently."

"I only wish they were still here," Renée remarked darkly. "Captain de Gaulle, I want your men to secure this area, find yourself living quarters either inside or outside, and start getting this place fortified. Whatever happened here I want to be ready for it to repeat."

The infantrymen rushed throughout the chamber and into other doorways with torches, leaving Renée with Clarice, Miata, and a pair of soldiers guarding the stairway. They moved throughout Staff, but everywhere they went there was not a sign of what had happened to the battalion. At long last Renée came to the anteroom of the Organization's archives, which she had only ever seen from outside.

Clarice gasped, holding a torch a little higher, "The archives' vault door, it's… open."

Renée did not like the look of things at all as she walked into the darkened chamber, which only had small slits in the rock to provide light. Renée put her torch into a wall-mount and looked around. There were stands of library shelves throughout the room. As Renée wandered towards the shelves, she felt something underfoot.

She looked down to see papers littering the room in the fluttering torchlight.

Renée cursed as she saw papers littering the entire archive floor, "Goddammit! The place has already been ransacked. Someone's been through the entire Organization's archives. Miria is going to be pissed as hell when I tell her we're missing an entire battalion AND the archives have already been pilfered."

* * *

Natalie had rushed back to her home to find a suitable disguise to get close to Murat's meeting place with the mysterious 'F.M'. Whoever it was wanted to meet Murat in a mere two hours halfway across town, which meant she had to hurry. As soon as Natalie got home, she realized finding a disguise was easier said than done. Her parents had bought her literally dozens of dresses and other clothes since the wedding a month ago. Mostly they had been given as gifts for her big seventeenth birthday, but the sheer amount had been overwhelming. She was rapidly coming to discover that both of her parents had a very grand sense of generosity now that they were earning good money.

She sighed as she flipped through her fancy dresses; not a single one would fit the bill of being inconspicuous. Worse still, now that her mom was earning exponentially more from owning half of a diamond mine, the dresses were only likely to explode in number and extravagance. Ultimately Natalie had to solve her disguise problem the only way a rich girl knew how: she bought her way out of the problem. A servant girl soon arrived back with a plain gray dress with a hood.

"That's perfect," Natalie complimented.

She was about to put the dress on when the maid-servant rushed back in with four of her idle peers. They soon got Natalie dressed, to her annoyance, and then started asking awkward questions about why she was wearing such a commoner's dress. Natalie left the sixth-floor bedroom and rushed past the third floor. A glance was enough to find Raki, her dad, Cid, and a pair of men outlining some building plan. She hurried past and out onto the bustling streets without her sword, as that would be guaranteed to attract attention.

Natalie hustled to the supposed meeting point and then decided to hang back. The alleyway was not well-lit by the day's light, which helped to hide her presence. Moments after tucking into a corner near the back of a brick house a man appeared. It was Murat, dressed in blue civilian robes. Murat looked around, anxiously messing with curly black hair, and then proceeded right past Natalie.

He waited a considerable length of time before Natalie saw a distant black shadow approach from the opposite direction. Murat hustled towards the black-cloaked man, far from Natalie. She nervously shuffled a little closer and used her great innate hearing to pick up their conversation from distance rather than risk exposing herself.

The man Murat was meeting talked in a hush, so low Natalie didn't pick up his first words. She adjusted the position of her head and listened in intently.

"Captain, we're about to strike a very big blow for freedom," Murat's companion whispered. "I hope you know Lord van Willems will probably be accompanied by his silver-eyed paramour."

Natalie's heart skipped a beat; the paramour had to be her aunt Helen.

Murat replied, "The plan is going as we expected. They've headed into the new, western half of the city."

"Excellent, excellent," Murat's companion murmured. "You think the group arranged will be adequate?"

Natalie's breath stilled at these words.

"I believe they are," Murat stated. "We will have some eight fighters equipped for the task at hand. Even if things don't go as planned, God will help us overcome. I have no doubt he will be looking out for us as we overcome the fallen angel's children."

Natalie gulped; it sounded like Murat intended to kill Helen and Ruud van Willems.

"I am sure you will succeed Murat," his companion replied. "You have proved yourself a faithful warrior for the church. I am sure your God will aid your men in striking down the witch and that accursed merchant lord."

Natalie couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, but she kept listening regardless.

Murat laid out his plans, "We'll be hitting them from the rooftops. It'll be a clean hit and get-away. I am sure between our weapons and surprise they won't stand a chance."

"It sounds good captain," his companion agreed. "May god be with you."

"May God be with you, Father Mazarin," Murat replied.

Natalie gasped; Father Mazarin was the head of the Toulousan Inquisition. She wasn't properly armed for taking down anyone, since she'd left her sword at home. However, if she could tackle and knock out both men as they walked by…

Natalie heard footsteps echoing and prepared herself for the leap. She kept as close as possible to a brick back porch's side, readying herself for the ambush. The footsteps sounded more distant now, and then suddenly were gone. Natalie rushed out to find the dark alleyway between the tall buildings abandoned, not a sign of Mazarin or Murat to be found.

"Oh hell," Natalie murmured, her heart racing in panic.

She'd failed because Murat and Mazarin had left by a different direction, and if she didn't hurry her aunt Helen could be the next victim of the inquisition.

* * *

Natalie rushed past a pair of surprised soldiers in the street. She rounded the block, nearly bowling a woman over.

"Sorry," Natalie gasped as she turned back to running.

Natalie paused to rip the dress' front to allow her better freedom of movement. She resumed running on the cobblestone streets as townspeople looked on in surprise. She reached her parents' manor, received a quick salute from two armored pikemen guarding the door, and rushed inside.

"Uff," Natalie gasped, having run into someone much taller and larger than herself.

It was Raki, and to his left was Virginia looking very cross, and also her dad, Cid, looking particularly unhappy. Natalie didn't like the looks of things.

"Natalie," Cid snapped, "Commander Virginia informs me you browsed the military archives after you lied about receiving your mother's permission. I am beyond disappointed in you!" You are grounded for a year!

"But dad, there's no time," Natalie gasped, trying to get around. "Aunt Helen and Lord van Willems are in mortal danger!"

Raki restrained Natalie with both arms as she struggled fitfully.

Her handsome, ponytailed father scoffed, "Oh come on Natalie, this lying has got to stop. Raki, take her back to the citadel; her mother will be coming to make certain she learns her lesson."

Raki began moving Natalie towards the door when in desperation she kicked back and upwards with her unrestrained left leg. Raki let out a groan of pain and fell to his knees. Natalie lunged for the inner door, bowling over Virginia when she attempted to tackle her.

Natalie rushed through the door and up the stairs with her father screaming, "That's it young lady, you're in for it now!"

Natalie ignored her father; there were worse things that would happen than his disapproval if she didn't move. She rushed past a number of surprised maid-servants, all of whom deftly dodged her as she rushed up the stairs. Natalie rushed into her bedroom, ditched her civilian shoes, put on a pair of steel-tipped combat shoes, and then grabbed her sword. She was surprised to find Raki already at the door looking more than a little annoyed.

"That was a damn fine shot," he complimented. "Unfortunately for you I can take the pain. You're going to the citadel now Natalie, and your mother will be arriving in half an hour to decide your punishment!"

"Aunt Helen's in danger," Natalie shouted. "Captain Murat's a traitor; I heard and saw him meeting with Father Mazarin. He's planning to kill Helen and Ruud van Willems!"

Raki scoffed, "Mazarin? Mazarin wouldn't dare come inside the city of Rabona, not with—"

Virginia arrived, panting, and looking very angry, beside Raki.

"That's it, you are under arrest for illegal trespassing Lady Natalie," Virginia snapped.

Natalie glanced back towards the balcony door to the right of her bed. Virginia rushed towards Natalie before Raki could say anything. Natalie bolted for the door, opening it just in time and slamming it closed on Virginia. She stopped short, nearly falling over the balcony edge from sheer momentum. Virginia was opening the door when Natalie looked up to see the manor's conveniently low-gabled roof.

Just as Virginia rushed forward to tackle her Natalie jumped in a spectacular back-flip over Virginia and onto the roof. She landed deftly and quickly oriented herself on the central western gatehouse overlooking the Toulouse River. Natalie began running and then with great effort leaped a wide avenue. She landed and looked back to see both Raki and Virginia leaping onto her home's roof behind her.

"Nuts," Natalie exclaimed.

She had to skip southwards across the rooftops with difficulty, as the canal beyond was too wide to jump. She dropped into the street and ran west across a stone bridge over the canal. Moments later she glimpsed Raki following at great speed. Thankfully for Natalie, ever since she'd been 'reborn' from Miria's body at the Battle of Kerouac Gorge, she'd picked up some of her mother's great speed.

She redoubled her efforts, and quickly ascended back up to the rooftops. She rushed across town with Raki and Virginia hot on her tail, although Virginia was losing ground, and even Raki appeared to be losing the foot race. Natalie reached the last set of houses before the four story city walls. With a herculean effort, she pushed off and jumped the gap between the city and the river-side wall. She landed with a jolt atop the walls.

"Ow, ow, ow," Natalie exclaimed.

Her legs stung with the pain of landing atop hard bricks, but she didn't have the time to massage away her pain. Raki was literally ten seconds behind, so Natalie ran with a limp up into the central riverside gatehouse. She emerged at the top to the surprise of a pair of soldiers. She noticed a zip line descending from the gatehouse tower and descending to a wall under-construction on the opposite side. Natalie spotted a zip line hanger just as Raki emerged from below. Natalie grabbed the hanger, put it on the zip line, and then descended as Raki missed grabbing her by a mere half second.

She was soon descending at considerable speed while crossing the Toulouse River. Below her were several of the great merchant galleons belonging to tradesmen. They were docked at the recently built, massive docks on the edges of the Toulouse River. Numerous people were loading and unloading goods as she looked around. A dozen merchant galleons four decks tall with four masts apiece were decked on the western bank. They were massive things, and seven of them were topped by the black and golden-eagle flags of the Romanow Empire. Five others were topped by the red with white swords of the Grand Alliance. All of the ships were docked to the south of Rabona's grand central bridge.

Natalie's heart skipped a beat as she saw the grand new work on the opposite side. A massive citadel and burgeoning city was stretching out before her as the wind whipped her hair. A grand citadel, its walls five stories tall, formed a square alongside the river's western banks. Within the under-construction citadel were several large, incomplete buildings. The citadel connected with shorter four story walls, most of which were under construction. Natalie remembered what her father had said about creating a 'new Rabona'. The Lord Mayor had authorized a massive new capital citadel on the western bank of the Toulouse River one mile square. Outside of that was "West Rabona", which was to be three miles west-east, and 4 miles north-south.

It was identical in size to 'old Rabona', but most of its walls were little more than wooden palisades. It was still a spectacular if incomplete sight as Natalie descended the final way to the under-construction citadel walls. She dropped off the zip line at the last moment and landed by rolling onto the wall. She could feel Helen's yoki far beyond, near the western edge of the new city.

She rushed past the workmen, through the maze of scaffolding, and finally jumped down from the western edge of the citadel walls. She landed in the street and looked back to see Raki coming towards her like a locomotive. Natalie was gasping from her efforts. She renewed her running towards Helen's yoki with everything she had left.

* * *

Helen was rather enjoying herself. She was dressed in a fine green and white dress her lover, Ruud, had given her. She was sipping a fine champagne in a glass while seated at an outside café. Seated across the small, circular, white table was a handsome, well-built, hawk-nosed man.

"Ruud darling," Helen murmured, "how about we head back to a hotel in an hour?"

The dark-haired Ruud smiled at her, "Your passion never ends, does it?"

Helen grinned, "I'm just thinking about how I'm going to blow your mind this time. You'll never go back to riding another woman once I ride you."

Ruud offered her a nervous smile. He was dressed in white breeches and long socks, with a fine blue jacket adorned with puffy white sleeves at the shoulders.

"Ruud," Helen sighed, "why can't you just leave your wife for me?"

Ruud looked as if he would rather discuss anything else, "Helen, look, I love you, but—"

"Ruud, you cheating bastard, I am going to kick your little silver-eyed mistress' ass for this," a female voice thundered.

Helen, startled, looked down the cobblestone street. A woman in a fine red and gold dress was walking towards them. She had gorgeous, long, braided black hair, and her face was that of youth just beginning to show the signs of aging with a few wrinkles. Helen knew immediately who it was: Ruud's thirty-five year old wife, Marie.

Ruud stood up looking uncomfortable, "Marie, dear, I…"

Marie gave Ruud a frightening look and then launched into a rant, "What the hell is this Ruud? Do you think I'm going to divorce you just because you do this sort of shit to me?"

Marie walked up to Helen, who stood up. Helen felt a nasty slap across her face from Marie, who was breathing hard and red-faced in fury.

"That's it," Helen snapped, "I've had it with your stonewalling!"

Helen whipped her right hand across Marie's face, delivering a sharp, shocking slap in revenge. Marie staggered under the force of the blow and fell to her knees.

Ruud snapped, "Helen, hold your strength back! You could've killed Marie!"

There was nothing that frustrated Helen more than Ruud's insistence on not leaving Marie. They'd been having a passionate affair for over a year now and yet Ruud still wouldn't leave her. Helen sighed as she watched Ruud help the dazed Marie to her feet.

Helen sat down and noticed people were staring. There were even people staring from the upper floor windows. Helen noticed a flash of movement on the roof and suddenly heard a twang. Madame van Willems let out a short gasp, and then fell onto Helen, knocking her from the chair and onto the street. Helen scrambled back and shouted in shock. Sticking out of the back of Marie's head was a steel arrow bolt. Ruud let out a scream.

Helen barely had time to rush to save Ruud from the rooftop attackers when she felt the breath driven from her body. She dropped to the cobblestone street atop Ruud. Gasping for breath, she discovered she'd been hit by four crossbow bolts. Two had embedded deep into her upper right leg, while another two had penetrated her lower left leg. Helen frantically tossed Ruud with all her strength behind a table.

She looked up to see some four crossbowmen on the rooftops opposite. They appeared to be reloading, so Helen dragged herself up despite the bolts in her legs. She grabbed her sword off a nearby table and prepared to jump. This plan lasted until she heard a quartet of twangs.

Helen let out a scream of pain and fell to the street on her left side. Gasping for breath, she staggered up onto her arms to find a pair of crossbow bolts stuck into her left side and penetrating into both lungs. A pair of bolts had just missed her head, and Helen realized in terror she had not four attackers, but eight crossbowmen shooting to kill her.

Ruud rushed from behind the table where she'd thrown him to help.

"Come on Helen," he snapped, grabbing her by an arm. He began dragging her back towards the safety of the table when he ducked. A pair of bolts had narrowly missed Ruud's head. Helen staggered to her feet when her legs gave out. A pair of stinging pains was her hint she'd been hit by yet another pair of bolts through the legs.

Helen fell sideways, hacking up blood and gasping for breath onto her right side. She glanced up to see the some of the crossbowmen waiting for the others to reload. Ruud was frantically dragging her towards shelter twenty feet away, but she didn't think they were going to make it. The insurgents were waiting to do the killing volley and were rapidly getting close to another shot, all eight strong.

Helen barely had the breath to gasp, "Oh shit."

* * *

Natalie saw the crossbowmen open fire and heard screams of alarm as the people in the street scattered and ran to safety. She jumped the final street and into a construction site. The scaffolding collapsed on her, tumbling Natalie down a story in a storm of dust. She got up and dodged through the debris. With a strong jump, she cleared an empty lot and landed atop the steep roof of a new townhouse.

She nearly fell off the roof, but determinedly dug her heels in and used her sword to stop her slide. Natalie desperately hacked her way up the roof and crested it just as she heard another scream, this time much more familiar.

Natalie cried out in alarm, "No, Aunt Helen, hold on, I'm coming!"

She slid down the roof's other side and crossed the gap onto the building next door. She spotted a man and a blond woman in the street. The woman had been badly wounded, numerous arrow bolts embedded in her body. She was desperately trying to reach the safety of an overturned table when two rooftop crossbowmen dressed all in black shot her.

Natalie let out a scream, "NOOO!"

Helen fell to the cobblestone street in a pool of blood, her chest barely moving as she hacked up more blood. Natalie spotted the crossbowmen half a block west. They hadn't heard her, and she noticed in alarm that the nearest were preparing to shoot Helen again. Natalie rushed across the rooftops just as they brought up the crossbows to shoot. In desperation she made a flying slash.

The two nearest crossbowmen crumpled as her blade slashed through their backs. Natalie had made the slash while flying face-first forward. She landed painfully upon her belly before a third crossbowman, who attempted to shoot her at point blank range. She dodged to her left just as the insurgent in black fired. The bolt smashed into the roof a mere inch from her nose. Natalie brought her blade up for a vertical slash, taking the man down with a horrific spray of blood.

Natalie kicked out and got to her feet. The remaining five crossbowmen had shouted, all of them noticing her. The roof was sloped, which hampered the insurgents' footing. This gave Natalie time as the five insurgents turned to shoot her. She ducked just as the nearest men fired. Two shots flew high as she charged across the loose red roof tiles. Unfortunately one black-masked male insurgent wasn't nearly so bad a shot as he pulled the trigger.

Natalie felt a sharp sting in her upper right leg. She stumbled, then a set of tiles gave way, and she found herself sliding towards the roof edge. She stabbed her sword into the roof, and with a jolt was stopped. One particularly bold insurgent, a female judging by her build, slid down the roof.

"It will be my pleasure to end the life of the fallen angel's granddaughter," the woman stated. "Stay still and this will be mercifully short.

Natalie might have been lying on her belly just short of the roof's edge, but she wasn't holding on to her sword to stay there. She kicked out with her right leg from one side and caught the female insurgent unawares. The woman was toppled from her feet and fell to her death in the street below with a scream that ended in a horrible thud. Natalie clambered to her feet in time to see the remaining three crossbowmen ready for her.

One looked to shoot her in the head, which she held up her hand.

Natalie yelled out in pain, "Agghhhh!"

A crossbow bolt had penetrated straight through her left arm and stopped, still embedded in her arm, mere inches from her eyes. Natalie lost her footing and fell onto loose tiles. She slipped and began sliding down the roof at great speed. At the last second she reached out and grabbed her roof-embedded sword's hilt. She nearly dislodged it, the jolt causing the horrific pain in her left arm to be excruciating.

Her legs were dangling off the roof uselessly as she held onto her sword, this time with both arms. The three insurgents brought their crossbows up for the final shot.

"Aim for the head," a woman said. "By killing two witches here today we will strike a great blow for God!"

The woman in the lead shifted her aim towards Natalie's head as Natalie's breath was stilled in realization of what was soon coming.

"Goodbye witch, I've—"

A massive claymore sword came flying from the woman's left and hit her square in the chest. She dropped her crossbow, her body crumpled, and it slid right past Natalie and off the roof. Natalie turned to see Raki and Virginia approaching at great speed. The other two insurgents cried out in alarm, hesitating to finish Natalie off. Even though Raki was sword-less, the inquisition fighters instead tossed something against the roof. In a flash of white smoke, they were soon gone. Raki ran over to help Natalie while Virginia rushed past in pursuit of the insurgents.

She was pulled up. Natalie yelled out in pain as Raki pulled out the bolt in her arm. He was about to pull out the one in her upper leg as Natalie began to heal when she held up a hand.

"No, we've got to help Helen," Natalie snapped.

Raki looked into the street and gasped, "Oh no."

They dropped off the roof at a lower point and rushed towards Helen. Natalie covered her mouth in horror. Helen was lying on her back, Ruud van Willems clutching her left hand and crying beside her. Another woman's corpse was nearby, an arrow through the back of her otherwise pristine head. All around Helen was a pool of blood atop the cobblestones.

Hawk-nosed Ruud looked up as Raki and Natalie approached.

"Help her," Ruud pleaded in a low voice. "She's all I have left."

Ruud van Willems' clothes were bloodied but he was otherwise untouched. Helen was much the opposite. Natalie kneeled next to the gasping Helen and counted some sixteen crossbow bolts stuck in her aunt. There were six embedded in Helen's torso, and they had gone deep, evidenced by Helen hacking up blood upon Natalie's face.

"Sorry sweetie," Helen rasped, her eyes already turning golden from the effort to stay alive.

"We'll get them out, don't worry Aunt Helen," Natalie cried.

Natalie was removing a crossbow bolt from Helen's neck when Helen grabbed her hand.

"Don't bother kid," Helen cried, tears streaming down her face.

"You'll make it, I promise," Natalie said, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Don't cry Natalie," Helen whispered. "I want you to be happy. You tried your best to save me. I only wish I was," Helen paused to cough up more blood, "worth your time."

Natalie removed the bolt in Helen's neck.

"Of course you are," Natalie said, her eyes overcome with tears.

"No," Helen gasped in pain, "I've been nothing but a selfish jerk. I wanted to tell you I am so proud of you for what you did at the Battle of Kerouac, Natalie. You deserved nothing but my love and I've given you so much scorn."

"Aunt Helen, please, you're going to make it," Natalie cried, "I swear it!"

"No I'm not, I can feel my body dying on me," Helen whispered, "I want you to do one last thing, Natalie. I want you to give me a goodbye kiss."

* * *

Murat, dressed in his armored best, was a very satisfied man. His plans appeared to have worked, even if there was some interference by three silver-eyed warriors. He was walking down General Miria Avenue past the usual bustling crowds. All around were people whispering, no doubt shocked at the church's success. He saw the four towers of the old, now-renovated eastern Rabona city citadel. It was where Miria had gotten her start just over a year ago as a mere Colonel.

He walked by the general's house and thought he even saw a shadow of her on the second floor. He got to the gates of the citadel and was saluted upon providing identification to the guards, both young privates. He walked into the grand entrance, passing by a number of men gossiping.

"Did you hear about Colonel Helen?"

He smirked; how could they not after his insurgents' triumph? He climbed the stairs as the soldiers' words echoed in the stone staircase.

"I heard she died," one man commented.

Murat exited the stairwell on the third floor, the floor on which his office was located.

Other soldiers gave him a nod as he passed by. He could hear them resume gossiping.

One asked, "How in the world could a claymore die from such wounds?"

Murat smiled inwardly; the myth of elite claymores' invincibility had been destroyed. The Toulousan Inquisition would soon replicate its success in killing Helen against all of the other claymores; each of them a child of the fallen angel. Murat knew the killing had the desired effect when he heard the fear and uncertainty in another soldier's voice.

"Maybe they're less superhuman than we thought," the man sighed. "From what I've heard, those Inquisition insurgents stuck her full of crossbow bolts like pins in a voodoo doll."

The satisfying thing was that Helen's fall would pave the way for his promotion to higher rank. Soon Miria's claymore officers would begin falling like dominos. He reached his office door, unlocked it, and walked into the dark room. The chair was facing the window, which was odd; he remembered leaving it facing the door. He walked towards it when it swiveled and turned.

"Good morning Jean," a female claymore stated.

Murat thought he was seeing a ghost for a moment. His heartbeat skyrocketed and his breathing quickened as he saw his superior officer, Colonel Helen, her right arm in a sling and her neck covered by a bandage, sitting in his chair in her full armor. He stepped back in shock.

Helen asked, her voice threatening, "I'm afraid rumors of my death were greatly exaggerated. I'll admit I nearly didn't make it, but thanks to Miria's girl I pulled through. What's the matter Murat? Shocked to see I'm still alive after you betrayed me?"

Murat's mind was so shocked he could barely respond, "Wha?"

A moment later two sets of arms pushed him forward and then slammed him onto the desk before the smiling Helen. Murat felt himself being handcuffed and then suddenly forced to stand.

Raki and Major General "Galk" Galacon were holding him by the arms. Murat gulped to see Lieutenant General Miria enter the office in her fully armored magnificence, gold-gilded pauldrons and all. Trailing Miria was her daughter, Natalie, who was wearing the navy-blue leather and chain-mail of a silver-eyed warrior. Miria looked at him with an air of supreme disappointment.

"I must say Murat, when I met you, you were the last person I ever expected to commit treason," Miria stated, "I'll offer you a deal: arrange a meeting with Father Mazarin and I'll be merciful and give you a lifetime sentence instead of an execution."

Murat shouted, "Never! I swore to god that I would never give in to the fallen angel's demon children and I—"

He heard crying and in through the door walked his silver-eyed fiancée, Valencia. She was wearing a white dress and looking despondently at him.

Valencia cried, "How can you want to marry me and say such horrible things about claymores? You and your stupid fundamentalism! How could you want do such things Jean?"

"Valencia, pumpkin, I—"

"I can't take this anymore," Valencia wept.

With a mournful eye, she left the room and left him shaken.

"So Jean," Miria said, "just how did you reconcile trying to kill all claymores and getting engaged to one?"

Murat closed his eyes and sighed. In truth he hadn't even given it a thought. He had always thought of Valencia as just Valencia. She had never seemed threatening to him nor did he think of her as just a claymore. He came to the terrible realization that he'd never seriously given a thought to marrying a claymore and killing all of her silver-eyed friends. He felt a few tears come down his face as he opened his eyes to find Miria mere feet from him, as strong as ever. His treachery had failed to fell even one of Miria's kind.

"You almost succeeded in killing Helen, so I can only offer you a life sentence," Miria stated. "What's your choice, death or saving Valencia some terrible grief by cooperating?"

"If it'll make Valencia happy, I'll lead you to Father Mazarin," he sighed.


	8. Chapter 7: The Beginning of the End

**Chapter 7: The Beginning of the End**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**The Toulousan Inquisition was not an inquisition like the two that had long ago preceded it. It was launched against the government, rather than with government backing. Having killed all of the church's male leadership, Father Mazarin launched his holy quest. The Third Toulousan Inquisition was but a pale shadow of its predecessors. Launched in the town of Orleans, it spread like wildfire across the lands of the Dominion of Toulouse. It grew out of disaffection amongst the most devout citizens with having church rule replaced by that of rich merchants who made up Rabona's Council of Lords.**

**Mazarin rapidly discovered that he could not hope to take on the Rabonese Army in a straight fight. When Mazarin's poorly trained, armored, and fanatical followers charged Colonel Helen's pikemen regiment at Murten, they were beaten back in spectacular fashion. Some two thousand insurgents attacked, but only three hundred survived to flee the battlefield. Helen's pikemen regiment lost a mere thirty one men in contrast, killed or wounded.**

**With nearly half of Mazarin's early supporters dying in this battle, he changed tactics.**

**After this the Inquisition turned into a genuine insurgency, with hit-and-run raids against the Rabonese Army. They also carried out assassinations of army officers, targeted members of their families, intimidated fellow citizens into cooperation, and ambushed troops that were "off-duty". Phantom Miria suspected a traitor within the ranks was feeding intelligence to Mazarin's insurgents. Her silver-eyed daughter, Natalie, on a hunch, illegally gained access to the military archives and discovered a plot by Captain Jean Paul Murat.**

**Murat, ironically, was engaged at the time to a silver-eyed warrior named Valencia. Out of love for his heartbroken fiancée he agreed to cooperate. Thus, a mere month after the inquisition began, its leader was to be lured into a trap using his own former agent…**

* * *

Miria had never felt so impatient in her life. She was at the edge of a forest twelve miles north of Rabona. She was hidden behind a large oak tree, sword in hand. Arranged around a forest clearing, just out of sight, were a number of other claymores. To Miria's right, hidden by an even larger tree, was the stocky-legged, well-endowed, short, curly-haired Nadia.

"Do you think he'll show up?"

Miria turned to see Tabitha next to her, her hairbun in a messy state. Tabitha looked absolutely determined, and like everyone else, was in her full armor. This included a steel cuirass, a pair of steel pauldrons, extra-long gauntlets, and an open-faced steel helmet. Miria's armor was quite similar, except it included greaves, and as army's top officer, her armor was opulently gold-rimmed or gilded. It made her a spectacular sight in day time, but it was now just past sunset.

Miria's eyes observed a man in dark clothes with messy hair, his head down as he sat down on a stump in the clearing's center.

"As far as Mazarin knows," Miria stated, "Murat is still his pawn, so he has every reason to come. He'll come, and when he does, the eleven of us will take him down."

Tabitha nodded in agreement as they waited, the moon's light just beginning to fill the clearing. Miria crept into the shadow left by the tree's trunk and continued the vigil.

In the aftermath of busting Captain Murat for treason, she had hidden his arrest from official news. This she did in order to help lure out Murat's master, the fanatical leader of the Toulousan Inquisition, Father Mazarin. Since the Inquisition had begun one month prior, nearly ten thousand people had lost their lives.

Throughout the Dominion of Toulouse, the cities, towns, and villages surrounding Rabona had been hit by an unremitting wave of terror. Families of those who worked for the government had been killed, intimidated, threatened, and harassed. It did not matter if the men were in the army or just clerks; Mazarin's supporters saw all of them as complicit in overthrowing the "rule of God".

Miria felt little sympathy for his beliefs. When she took over the Holy Guards Army, it had been a shock to discover the level of complacency in the church's army. She did her best, and was almost adequately prepared to face King Charles' second assault. Rabona's greatly improved and strengthened army was not allowed to counterattack however. The church had said that an offensive war was an abomination in the eyes of God.

As a result she let the army stand by while the Rabonese Council of Lords had overthrown the church's rule. Freed from the church's ideology, the army had performed magnificently in a series of night time attacks that destroyed half of King Charles' army. They even won the Battle of Kerouac Gorge, which had established Rabona's semi-supremacy over the island once more.

The church's most fanatical followers had taken this rather badly; Mazarin had murdered Bishop Vincent, fled Rabona, and launched the Toulousan Inquisition. It hadn't come close to overthrowing the government, but it had cost Rabona dearly nonetheless.

Helen's distant silhouette on the clearing's edge opposite Miria waved, warning Miria they had someone incoming.

"This is it," Miria whispered.

Not far from Helen's silhouette Miria noticed a new set of dark shapes walk into the clearing. There were at least three dozen of them, several noticeably carrying swords. Nadia crept over next to Miria.

"There are more of them on the way," Nadia murmured. "About three hundred total."

Nadia was right. The men had entered the clearing from the right, along the path of a small stream. Miria at last noticed a man in all white amongst those walking into the clearing; it was Father Mazarin. They were less than two hundred yards from the head of the inquisition. Miria could practically taste victory but could not move until everyone was in the clearing.

"This is it, Nadia," Miria remarked. "I'm not going to let Mazarin take one more life."

Nadia sighed, "You can't promise such things in war, General."

Miria whispered back, "There's no reason why I can't promise that. We're armored enough to handle anything, we've got the numbers to take them without great difficulty, and I'm with you. There's nothing we haven't—"

"Mazarin, you're going to pay for what you've done!"

Miria's attention, along with everyone else in the clearing, was jerked to her left. Making a grand and foolhardy entrance into the clearing with a face that suggested outrage was Valencia, Murat's heartbroken fiancée. She was wearing her full armor, but had somehow forgotten her crucial steel helmet. The church men were shocked for a moment as Valencia rushed forward and drew her claymore.

Murat shouted, "No, don't do it Valencia!"

Mazarin, well-protected in the clearing's center by numerous bodyguards, shouted, "Kill her! Kill the silver-eyed demon for god!"

"Hell," Miria cursed. "Nadia, take Mazarin; I'll save Valencia from herself."

Valencia was several hundred yards away and had begun the fight in earnest. She had rushed forward and closed the distance on the first group of half-panicked defenders. Her first slash had cut two men in half at the waist. Two dozen crossbowmen however had other plans than death at Valencia's hands. They loosed a withering hail of fire at her. Valencia dodged all but two bolts, both of which struck her in the upper legs.

Miria, Nadia, Tabitha, and Tabitha's nine Elite Guard subordinates all jumped into the fray belatedly, having had the element of surprise ruined by Valencia's quest for revenge. Miria cleared a marshy patch with a jump and landed in the midst of five insurgents. She whipped her sword around in a nearly three-hundred sixty degree arc. The five men dropped dead around her, undone by a viciously strong and perfectly weighted swing.

Nadia meanwhile had taken a bolt to the chest nearby, but had kept going. Valencia on the other hand, shortly after taking down yet another Inquisition insurgent, had rather worse luck. Five bolts had hit Valencia square in the chest, which resulted in her listing to the side and collapsing onto the ground. A dozen assailants rushed towards Valencia as she tried to recover from being hit.

Miria noticed the path towards Mazarin and his group of bodyguards was surprisingly open. This was due mainly to having another dozen claymores hacking, dodging, slashing, and jumping their way into the ranks of the insurgents. The hundreds of remaining men, mostly infantrymen, posed little danger to their kind out of formation. However, with some ten crossbowmen near Valencia quickly reloading, Miria's choice was taken from her.

Valencia, hacking up blood and staggering, still managed to cut down some four swordsmen with ease. Miria meanwhile rushed through the long grass when she was cut off by a squad of heavily armored spearmen. They attempted to form a spear-wall, but she merely cut off the ends of their spears and slashed her way on the run right through the group.

Valencia, not more than a dozen yards away, had just managed to deflect the slashes of two swordsmen. However another had managed to get behind her and buried his blade into her back and out her belly. Valencia let out a piercing shriek, and promptly counterattacked, cutting the armored man's head off in a single slash.

However, four other men were about to cut into Valencia when Miria arrived behind them. Without hesitation Miria slashed horizontally with her great sword. With a series of four wrenching snaps, the blade cut through the back armor and spines of the men. They dropped to the ground, instantly dead. Valencia, huffing, blinked in surprise.

Miria could see blood around Valencia's mouth even in the dim moonlight. The bolts must have penetrated her lungs for her to have begun to hack up blood. It was a very dangerous injury for a claymore to receive. Unless they pulled the bolts out, a claymore could be asphyxiated by blood pooling in their lungs.

"General, look out," Valencia gasped.

Miria noticed something incoming and turned her head just in time. A metallic object glanced off the left side of her helmet and buried itself in the ground not far away. The culprit, a crossbowman, was brought down moments later by the elven-eared Julia from behind. Petite Julia came rushing up to them as Miria kept a wary eye on the ever-diminishing followers of Mazarin.

Miria snapped as Julia ran up, breathless, "Sergeant Julia, get her out of here!"

Julia wordlessly nodded her head, picked up Valencia, and began running for the cover of the nearby forest. Miria turned back just in time; a crossbowman a dozen yards distant had managed to reload while protected by several spearmen to either side. He brought up his weapon and took aim at Miria's chest. Miria brought up her sword just in time, which saved her from a painful impact by deflecting the shot harmlessly away.

Miria shouted just as Nadia and Tabitha's squad had finished cutting down all but a hundred of Mazarin's bodyguards. They were all gathered around him now in a tight-knit circle of protectors, their swords, spears, and bows readied to continue the fight. Less than a dozen yards away on all sides were Miria's subordinates, their swords reddened with blood and ready to strike. Miria looked in regret at the bloodied corpses lying all around.

"Mazarin, I'm Lieutenant General Phantom Miria," she announced in a loud voice.

The bald, squiggly-eyed man and his insurgents shifted their eyes almost entirely towards her. A few crossbowmen even took aim but they didn't have the numbers to really threaten her.

"Do your men a favor Mazarin; save their lives by surrendering," Miria offered.

The white-robed man stepped a little forward, into clear moonlight, "Surrender, to you, the daughter of the fallen angel? Ha, do you think I've gone mad, demon?"

Miria sighed; she really hated dealing with religious fanatics, particularly those who had problems with the existence of her kind.

"I'm not the daughter of anything foul your imagination invented," Miria stated. "What I am is the commander of the twelve claymores about to slaughter your remaining men if you don't surrender. You're hopelessly outnumbered Mazarin; do your men a favor and spare them death."

"You underestimate the strength of God's will, foul witch," Mazarin stated. "Even if it is my destiny to die, I wish you to see my men put this foul traitor to death before that moment."

Jean Paul Murat, his black hair messy and his face frantic, was brought forward before Mazarin by two well-armored bodyguards. Miria didn't wait for them to get out their swords; she sent her sword flying end-over-end first. It impaled the guard holding Murat's right arm, and he slumped backwards onto the ground, dead. Murat reacted quickly to this by jostling off the other guard and running for his life.

Mazarin screamed, "Kill the traitor!"

Nadia jumped into the middle of Mazarin's cluster of bodyguards. She deflected a blow that would have connected with Murat's neck. Murat kept running, a quartet of swordsmen closing in on his path to freedom. Tabitha jumped over Murat and with skill deflected the blows of four assailants.

Miria shouted at Nadia, who was close to Mazarin, "Capture him!"

Mazarin however had other plans.

"You'll never take a man of God alive," he screamed.

Miria ran to her right and with a flying kick saved Murat from one last possible assailant. Murat ran out of the pocket of fast-dwindling Mazarin supporters and into the clearing, where Valencia, freshly patched up, was rushing to greet him. Miria didn't have long to consider this but had to duck and incoming slash from a swordsman. She countered with an uppercut punch straight into his stomach that knocked the man out.

A glance back saw Nadia, her armor gleaming in the moonlight, slash down one of the men closest to Mazarin. Despite Nadia's successes, none of Miria's other subordinates were anywhere near as close to Mazarin. Miria of course was still handicapped by the throwing away of her primary weapon, so she was having to hold back from plunging into the fight.

Mazarin lit some sort of short length of rope attached to a small, round object, "You think you're going to take me? Well, you thought wrong!"

Nadia hacked down another of his bodyguards and had almost reached him when Mazarin took the small ball of metal with the burning rope attached and held it aloft. The expressions on several of his men turned ashen, and several of the closest began to run away from Mazarin. Miria frowned; something was very off.

Nadia looked bewildered as Mazarin's bodyguards ran away from him, but then resumed her thrust straight towards Mazarin.

Nadia shouted triumphantly as she held her blade to Mazarin's neck, "I've got him!"

"Not for long," Mazarin replied.

Miria noticed in alarm that at his feet were dozens of the little metal balls, each with a small strand of rope attached. Mazarin took the burning rope-topped metal ball in his hands and threw it atop the pile. The flame was rapidly nearing the metal ball's top when Miria realized it had to be some kind of weapon, but what type she had no idea.

Miria called out a warning to Nadia, "Nadia, get away—"

The flame reached the ball's top, and in a flash of fire and concussive force, Miria felt herself lifted off the ground. She slammed into the ground over a dozen feet away, dazed, her hearing oddly muffled. Miria felt blood trickle down her forehead and noticed some shards of metal were lightly embedded there. These she removed with her hands as she clumsily stood up. She nearly fell over upon standing, and gasped upon seeing what had happened.

Throughout the clearing were small patches of flame and smoke. Most of Mazarin's men had either been killed or knocked unconscious by the blast. A few she could see escaping into the darkness of the forest beyond. Miria didn't bother giving chase; she was in no condition to do so anyways. Her armor was covered in metal shards and her helmet was thoroughly smashed.

Murat and Valencia ran up, both looking quite shocked and appalled.

Miria caught Murat by the collar, "Murat, why the hell didn't you mention Mazarin having a weapon like that?"

Murat whimpered, "I had seen Mazarin carrying those objects, but I swear to you general, I had no idea that was what they would do!"

Tabitha came walking up, her hair burnt and unkempt, her face covered in metal shards and blood, her uniform and armor tattered. Tabitha saluted but nearly fell over as her arm dropped.

"My squad's all accounted for…somehow," Tabitha murmured in shock.

Miria asked, "Where's Nadia? We've got to help her heal her wounds from that—"

Valencia spoke up tearfully, "General, Colonel Nadia's no longer amongst the living."

Miria bristled, "There's not a human weapon I know that could—"

Valencia presented what looked to be a severed female hand with a very familiar gold ring upon it, "This is all I could find of Nadia's body."

Miria let out a primal scream of anguish and fell to her knees, shocked and dismayed.

* * *

It was instantly clear to Renée that something was off. She was sitting in the very heart of the former headquarters of the Organization. This cave was lit by holes in its side which allowed just enough sunlight to see by and read. She was sitting on Rimuto's old stone throne, her legs crossed over as she Clarice and Miata walked up expecting orders. It wasn't armored Clarice or Miata that concerned her; it was five yokis approaching slowly from the south.

Miata leaned her tall frame forward, "Colonel, you wanted us?"

"I'm going to leave Staff for at least a few hours to do some reconnaissance, and I want you two to come with me," Renée announced.

The silver-eyed brunette, Clarice, objected, "But Colonel, if we do that—"

Miata, Clarice's teenaged beauty of a silver-eyed 'daughter', scoffed, "Mom, you're not supposed to talk back at orders."

"Daughters aren't supposed to lecture their mothers," Clarice shot back.

"Alright, that's enough," Renée snapped, tired of dealing with their constant squabbling. "I'm not interested in your mother-daughter issues. You can squabble all you like when I'm out of earshot, but not right now."

Miata had matured dramatically in the three years since victory, both emotionally and physically, a change to which Clarice seemed to be having difficulty adjusting. Miata had equaled Galatea in height and Renée noticed, to her chagrin, that Miata may have just equaled her in bust as well. Miata was also getting rather smart-alecky and pushy when it came to getting into an intimate relationship with a man. It was enough to get the two yelling at each other, arguing, cajoling, negotiating, and generally aggravating Renée like nothing else.

Miata and Clarice put on their steel helmets and saluted together, "Of course, Colonel."

Renée snapped at the armored officer waiting behind them, "Major Chevalier, make certain to maintain contact with Rabona in my absence. You are not to move from Staff even if you come under attack."

The mustached, shorter man saluted, "Understood, Ma'am."

Within minutes, having donned her considerable remaining armor and put on her armored shoes, Renée was ready to leave. Miata and Clarice walked up with questioning looks.

"I've detected Yoma in the area of Konstanz Bay; we're going to go take a look," Renée announced.

The run south was in earnest, as Miata seemed to be intent on impressing with a display of her raw stamina. The weather cooperated early in the day, with a beautiful, sunny sky blessed with idyllic amounts of interesting, passing clouds. This didn't last as Renée panted after Miata, the clouds and sky turning stormy, and within minutes, beginning to pour.

Renée had become so annoyed with feeling wet and the constant, loud pangs of rain striking her armor she almost forgot about the yoki she was tracking. Luckily Miata was paying more attention, and suddenly stopped short. Renée 's momentum carried her into Miata's back.

"Uph," Renée uttered. "Sorry."

They had stopped still in a fir tree forest, which was unusually silent for the time of year. They were on a small wagon path, which was thankfully covered in gravel and not mud. The rain was beginning to dissipate as Miata took to sniffing the air experimentally.

Renée , confused, asked, "What is it?"

"I can smell a man near those Yoma," Miata whispered.

"Then there's not a moment to lose," Renée whispered back, "we take them out now!"

Clarice came running up behind just as they began running again down the wet forest path, panting, "Oh, come on, can't we stop for just one minute?"

"If somebody paid more attention to her conditioning than flirting with Galk maybe she wouldn't be so slow," Miata snidely remarked.

"That's it… young lady," Clarice gasped, her lungs not allowing her a better response.

Renée didn't wait around for yet another mother-daughter spat, and promptly took off at a blistering pace. Miata, caught off-guard, took nearly half a minute to catch up. It was not long until Renée caught sight of the coast. Just beyond was the great Bay of Konstanz, where a naval engagement had occurred less than a year before. Renée noticed that many of the wrecks were still there, stranded upon the rocks and shoals near shore.

She jumped off the path, wove her way through the forest, and then came to an embankment. She dropped down carefully, descending the tree-covered foothill with Miata close behind. Further back Renée could hear Clarice's gasping for air, but she paid this no mind as she hit the hill's bottom. A forest-edged valley appeared before her, and it would have looked idyllic but for the man running for his life straight towards her.

He was some five hundred yards distant, and didn't appear to have spotted her at the forest's edge. Closing in on him were some five brown, hideous Yoma, each a head taller than the man and baying for his guts. They had gnarly teeth and resembled a monstrous version of a human male but with massive teeth and far different skin.

The man almost stumbled when he hit a patch of muddy ground, and the Yoma, sensing blood, poured on the speed. Renée drew her sword, as did Miata, and together they rushed to aid the would-be victim. They were only a hundred yards from him, running at full tilt, when he spotted them. He suddenly stopped in mid-stride, his face stricken in terror as the Yoma closed in from one side and Renée and Miata the other.

Renée muttered in disbelief, "What the hell does he think he's doing?"

The man began backpedaling from them and running straight towards the Yoma, who slowed down at the appearance of two claymores. Miata took a massive leap, jumped over the man with ease, and landed with superb timing before the Yoma. With a single swing Miata cut off the heads or chopped the torsos of four Yoma in two. They went down in spurting purple blood.

The remaining Yoma had avoided Miata's attack by jumping over her and landing right before the brown-haired young man. He let out a scream just as Renée 's claymore slashed through the Yoma's head. It fell backwards, away from the man, oozing blood where it hit the ground. Renée put her sword into its holder on her back and sighed when the young man took off running.

Renée , offended, shouted, "Hey, you idiot, stop!"

She caught up to the man and cut off his path to the forest while Miata came up behind. The man slumped to the ground and appeared as if he were expecting her to kill him.

Renée , aggravated at the man's stupidity, snapped her fingers in front of his face and lectured, "What the hell were you thinking? Do you seriously think we're out to kill you? Hey, I'm talking to you buddy, don't you dare stare into the ground on me!"

Renée grabbed him by the chin and brought his face up so that his attractive blue eyes met hers. The man had short brown hair that was just beginning to recede to the sides, but his face had a refined, attractive quality to it. He wore a fine white tunic and nice brown boots. His build was like that of a medium-distance runner; he was neither ridiculously muscular nor super-thin. Renée found herself admiring his taste in fashion and attractive qualities.

It was these qualities Miata that couldn't help but comment on, "Wow, he's cute!"

Renée , while not minding his looks, let out a bit more of her aggravation, "Take a look!"

Renée turned his head with her right hand to both sides to look upon the Yoma that had just been slain. They made a grisly sight, which the man noted by gulping.

Miata knocked Renée 's arm down, "You're scaring him."

"He deserves it," Renée snapped. "We were trying to save his life and just look at what he did! He went and ran straight towards the Yoma; I'm telling you, the man wants to die!"

"Maybe he does, but you know Renée , you'd be a lot more likable if you didn't expect a perfect world around you," Miata commented. "Even Countess Miria says so. Let me talk to him and find out what happened, ok?"

Renée bit her lip and looked at the fearful man with annoyance, "Oh, all right, you talk to him then. Just one thing Miata…"

Miata's eyebrows rose, "Yes?"

"Don't lecture me again," Renée stated.

Renée walked off and found herself a semi-dry stone to sit upon and watch Miata's questioning of the suicidal man. She sat down just as Miata kneeled before the man.

Miata placed a hand upon her chest, "My name's Miata Habsburg, what's yours?"

The man stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Maybe he's mute," Renée commented.

"I don't think he is," Miata replied. "I'll try again."

"Good luck with that," Renée murmured.

Miata this time simply pointed to herself and said, "Miata Habsburg."

The man surprised Renée by answering simply, "Alexander Comnenus."

His accent was unlike anything Renée had ever heard; she had just gotten up to come over and question him herself when Clarice arrived, panting like a dying mule.

"Miata….," Clarice said before stopping to catch her breath, "what are you doing?"

"We saved this man from those Yoma over there," Miata stated, pointing to the remains of the Yoma that had been so lethally chopped apart. "He was just telling me his name is Alexander Comnenus."

"Colonel," Clarice stated, her breath returning as she saluted Renée , "I saw a big warship of some kind leaving Konstanz Bay."

Renée immediately took out her bronze hand telescope and looked, but it was already gone into the deepening fog over the water.

Renée queried, "Did you get a look at its flag, Lieutenant?"

"No," Clarice replied, sounding disappointed.

Miata meanwhile was continuing her introduction session with the strangely accented Alexander Comnenus. She was pointing at herself again and saying all sorts of things. This only seemed to confuse Alexander further, as his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked distressed.

The man spoke, but not in Toulousan, "Gdzie ja jestem?"

"It doesn't look like either side is going to understand the other," Renée muttered. "We can't just leave a foreigner like him to die out here, so we'll take him back to Staff with us. We're expected back by tomorrow, but I suppose for his sake we can take an extra day or two. Clarice and I will escort him back."

Miata objected, "But what am I supposed to do?"

Renée took a look at the man's clothing and noticed Alexander didn't have any food or survival gear with him, "It looks like he doesn't have any food, so find him something to eat."

* * *

Rubel was lounging on the second floor of the Grand Alliance's embassy. It had tall windows that looked out upon Rabona's grand square. Below was the growing bustle of the town market, which now, thanks to Phantom Miria's diamond mine near Pieta, was overwhelmed by purveyors of jewelry. The clang of a church bell drew his attention to the left.

The fifteen-story tall Teresian Cathedral dominated the square, its twin bell towers to either side of its grand entrance giving it an imposing presence. An even taller third tower was located further back. Rubel noticed a set of minute figures; nuns, mostly likely, working in the nearest bell tower's belfry. The weather even fit in with the contented mood of the people below; it was warm, sunny, and not a cloud was to be seen.

"Louvre," a voice called.

Rubel sat up from his perch on the sofa and looked down the red-carpeted hallway. Walking his way was the goateed Grand Alliance ambassador to Rabona, Duke von Rundstedt. Rundstedt was wearing his finest red robes and a wide-brimmed black hat topped with white feathers.

Rubel respectfully jumped to his feet and made a small bow, "Yes, Your Excellency?"

"The situation has changed," Rundstedt declared. "Our esteemed 'friends', Lord Mayor Zaehringen and Phantom Miria, are investigating the matter of who gave gunpowder to Father Mazarin. They've assigned Baron Staufen to investigate where the insurgents are getting their weapons, and it seems the man is smarter than we gave him credit for. Ah, there he is now."

Rubel looked down below and saw an elderly, white-haired man in fine green robes climb aboard a beautiful carriage. Its driver cracked the whip and it pulled away at a brisk pace pulled by some four immaculate white horses.

Rundstedt remarked, "See to it that Baron Staufen's investigation is… taken care of."

Rubel donned his black hat and grinned, "I'll see to it immediately then."

The fun thing about listening to Rundstedt was he knew exactly what Rundstedt really meant but could not afford to openly say. It was like everything in diplomacy and spying; Rundstedt needed to be able to plausibly deny he had ordered anything. Of course what Rundstedt meant was nothing less than ending the life of Baron Staufen. With scarcely a sound Rubel found his traveling cloak, which disguised him in public, and promptly left the embassy following Staufen's carriage.

* * *

Helen couldn't understand why she was so dissatisfied as she stared at herself in the full-body mirror. She was as sexy as ever, of that she could be sure. Her red silk corset was doing a lovely job of hiding her belly scars and covering her lower back. Her breasts felt firm and looked as attractive as ever as she turned this way and that to examine herself. But nonetheless she didn't feel very well despite appearing completely healthy.

"Helen, it's a beautiful night out, come here and take a look," Ruud van Willems called.

Willems was wearing pants but no shirt, was hawk-nosed but handsome, well-built, and was beckoning her over with his hand. Helen, wearing nothing but the corset, gingerly tiptoed across the oak-floored bedroom. A pair of open doors led to a small stone balcony, where Ruud van Willems was waiting. He wrapped his left arm around her as she joined him. Outside was the inner square of Rabona. Willems' manor was situated not far from the Lord Mayor's residence, and faced south towards the Teresian Cathedral. Torches on the four obelisks in the square below and candles in the manors lining the square gave enough light to see by below but not enough for someone to see them.

Willems however was looking up above, at the beautiful night sky, "It's almost as beautiful as those two magnificent parts of you."

Helen blushed, "Ruud, come on, go get a girl who likes poems and songs about her if you're going to talk like that."

It looks like Ambassador Tuluzy is up," Ruud remarked.

Helen tried her best to act nonchalant as Willems' hand wrapped its way around her breasts.

"He's been up all this week practically. Audrey delivered three weeks early and would have died in childbirth if it weren't for Galatea," Helen replied.

"I still can't believe she's declared herself Nun-Bishop Galatea," Ruud commented.

"Well it's not like she could just declare herself Bishop since she's a female," Helen pointed out. "Plus since the Inquisition began, most of the male priests are either dead or still at war with the state. Still, I kind of feel sorry for her; half her parishioners haven't come back since she made the announcement."

Ruud leaned over and smelled Helen's hair, "Speaking of announcements, isn't it about time we made one of our own?"

"Ruud, that's a terrible segway," Helen commented.

"It's what you've wanted to hear for two years dear," Ruud reasoned.

Helen let out an involuntary moan of pleasure as he stood behind her and 'massaged' her chest with great skill. Helen felt her body warming up rapidly as he touched her all over.

"Ruud," Helen gasped.

Ruud leaned his head in over her right shoulder, "Don't you want to get married?"

"Ruud, dammit, I know what I said, but not like this," Helen objected.

"Why not?"

"Because your wife just died," Helen replied more firmly.

"Alright, fine, I'll wait a few months," Ruud placated. "How about I make you sing for me tonight?"

Helen knew by the way Ruud said it that Ruud meant something entirely different from actually singing.

"I don't know if I'm in the—"

Ruud hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her back to the room's massive canopy bed. He laid Helen upon her back and kneeled on all fours over her. She turned her head to the side as Ruud laid himself atop her and began kissing her neck. Things took their due course as Willems pulled down his pants.

Helen let out a low gasp as Ruud pressed his love into her. He was passionately burying himself into her when she glanced up and noticed a mirror on the bed's ceiling. It showed about what she expected; a muscular man atop a lithe, silver-eyed female. But as Helen looked it seemed her face was changing and her hair changing color. Moments later she could have sworn she was in fact Ruud's late wife, Marie.

Helen's heartbeat skyrocketed, and she pushed Ruud off in panic.

"I can't do this Ruud," Helen said, climbing out of bed.

"Helen, what's the matter?"

Helen got off the bed and walked towards her clothes when she chanced a glance at the full-body mirror on the wall. Staring back at her was Marie, her black hair shimmering, her eyes narrowed and staring hatefully right at Helen, an arrow clearly stuck in the back of her head.

Helen yelped and rushed to her clothes and put them on, "I'm sorry Ruud, but I have to leave right now!"

Ruud, looking bewildered, took a glance at the mirror, "Helen, there's nothing there. You're just seeing things."

"I can't see you again Ruud," Helen replied.

Ruud hopped out of bed naked and grabbed her by an arm, "Helen, calm down, there's nothing wrong."

"Yes there is," Helen countered. "I'm in the same bed you shared with your wife a week after she died, and now I'm seeing her everywhere!"

"Dear, come now, be reasonable, there's—"

"I can't do this anymore Ruud," Helen stated while stuffing herself into the black dress she'd worn earlier.

"But—"

Helen put on her shoes, kissed Ruud goodbye one final time, and then ran out of the manor and into the comfort of the dark night.

* * *

Rubel rather enjoyed working with church insurgents. They made for rather unsuspecting allies. There were fewer admittedly, but the few he was working with were more than motivated enough. They were determined to strike back in revenge for Father Mazarin's death. He was working with three of them, all of them young men barely out of their teens. They were sitting inside a room that overlooked a narrow street. Rubel was wearing a black cloak with a hood and a mask to disguise his identity, which would be inconvenient to reveal to say the least.

"Maestro," the eldest of the men addressed him, "are you sure he'll come?"

Rubel grinned underneath the mask and replied, "The accursed merchant lord always comes through this street on his way to work every morning. We must merely light the fuse and he will be blown to hell with his minions."

They were on the second floor of an old apartment building that had seen better days and was awaiting demolition. Its spartan interior of bare brick and plain wood floors and conveniently hadn't had the doors locked. Its second floor windows were also untouched, which allowed Rubel to lay the trap with ease. A fuse was lying on the edge of the nearest windowsill, which was laid out the window and straight down into the street. It was all magnificently simple and convenient really. But then again the people of Rabona had never seen what his peons were about to do.

Rubel noticed a man waving a white flag far down the street from a corner window.

"I must get going to plan more action against the usurpers," Rubel lied. "All you have to do is light the fuse roughly ten seconds before the carriage will pass by the package."

"God bless you, Maestro," the youngest man said. "We would never have been able to do this without your help."

"Of course," Rubel agreed. "Now then, I really must get going."

Rubel left the three fanatics, descended the building's stairs, and walked out the side door. He quickly scampered through the crowded side street and then jogged two blocks north. Out of curiosity he hung a right and cut back towards the street upon which the trap was about to be sprung. In his haste he was nearly run over by Baron Staufen's carriage, just managing to step back towards the curb as they passed.

He watched as Staufen's carriage resumed its course straight down the narrow street. It was lined by three and four-story buildings on each side, most of them recently renovated. The trap was not hard to spot; an abandoned old, wheel-less carriage had been left just off the street. Conveniently enough its windows were all boarded up, which concealed the hundreds of pounds of gunpowder he'd stuffed into it.

Rubel saw a small spark above the street where the insurgents were gathered. The fuse began burning inconspicuously downwards from the window ledge. The timing was even better than he'd hoped for. The horses were just pulling Staufen's carriage by when the fuse hit the top of the abandoned carriage some five feet away.

The abandoned carriage's cab blew apart in an enormous explosion. The flames immediately engulfed and utterly annihilated Staufen's carriage. They hit the opposite side of the alley and blasted out windows. It also conveniently was so powerful it leveled the entire side of the building the unsuspecting insurgents were in, killing them instantly. The explosive force of the blast pushed upwards and to the sides and dissipated within a couple of seconds.

Rubel just managed to dodge a flying chunk of debris and took cover under a shop overhang. People were screaming and objects were still landing when the explosion cleared and he saw the results. Both apartment complexes nearest the blast were half-leveled, which also meant most possible witnesses were dead. Staufen's carriage was utterly gone, all that remained being a couple of smoking embers in the road. His horses were similarly if more gruesomely eviscerated. All in all, Rubel thought, some of his finest work yet.

He was about to walk away from the scene when Raki, wearing full armor and accompanied by dozens of troops, rushed past. They were soon helping the innocent victims all around while other troops attempted to put out the flames in the blast-damaged buildings. Rubel paused a moment to watch and then made his way back to his embassy.

* * *

Helen didn't know quite what to expect when she was summoned to the Lord Mayor's Residence, but evidently she wasn't the only one. There had been an enormous blast west of the square in the morning, so Helen had expected the call-up at least. Miria was near the meeting room's entrance in full plate armor greeting the officers, both human and silver-eyed. The bronze doors were being guarded by Raki and dozens of Council Guardsmen wielding halberds.

Helen walked in as Miria gave her a nod and found herself a seat next to Galk. The nice thing about the meeting room was that it was bowl-shaped and at its top was a line of arched windows. These exquisite pieces of glass let everyone look out upon Rabona's central square and the massive Teresian Cathedral opposite. It would have made Helen smile, if not for the fact that Ruud van Willems had just entered the room.

He glanced at her furtively and then glanced away when she returned his gaze. Miria's husband, the ponytailed Cid, entered next and was soon followed by Lord Mayor Zaehringen himself. The lords were all wearing their finest blue, white, and green robes, with Zaehringen wearing a grand red-feathered hat.

The meeting proved to be of alarming interest when Zaehringen got things going.

Zaehringen stood up, brushing his graying beard, "As some of you may know, this morning Baron Staufen was killed in a blatant attack. General Malaga, I believe you can tell us some more about what happened."

Miria sighed, got up, and stood before a podium, "We have recently had some great successes in the field against the Toulousan Inquisition. Just this past week we moved against Father Mazarin and ambushed him and his closest supporters. Unfortunately…"

Helen noticed Miria was choking up, "Unfortunately," Miria continued, wiping away a tear, "He had a large number of these with him."

Miria held up what looked like a harmless metal ball with a small rope attached to its square top. Helen's brows furrowed; it certainly didn't look like anything to be afraid of.

Miria continued holding up the weapon, "This metal ball looks harmless, but it contains something that explodes and burns called gunpowder. Rather than be captured, Mazarin lit the fuse of one of them and threw it at a pile of these little bombs beneath him. Colonel Nadia Tierra was in the midst of arresting him when…"

Miria's eyes were moist but somehow she avoided crying, "What I mean to say is Colonel Nadia Tierra was killed three days ago by these gunpowder weapons."

A gasp came out of claymores, with the exception of Tabitha and her Elite Guard squad. Even some of the human officers were shocked; Nadia was not a slouch when it came to fighting or healing, and she had been almost universally loved by members of the military. To have been killed so easily was more than shocking, and it was a hard blow, as Nadia had been a dear friend. Helen imagined Nadia's husband Raul must have been incredibly distressed at his beloved wife's passing.

Miria sighed, "Shortly after dawn this morning Baron Staufen's carriage was traveling down Parc Avenue not more than ten blocks from here. A massive gunpowder bomb was set off by someone and it killed Staufen, his entire entourage, and wiped out all evidence he had gathered in his investigations."

Willems asked, "Investigations?"

Zaehringen, sounding fatigued, "You'll remember my fellow lords that I ordered an investigation into how the Inquisition was getting crossbows. As I think our dear Lord Staufen's death shows, it is now obvious that one or both of the superpowers is actively interfering in our domestic affairs. This gunpowder was unknown to our island until the superpowers showed up."

Cid spoke up, "Have we found any actual evidence?"

Zaehringen sighed, "No, we haven't, Count Malaga, but even if we did, what could we do? Everyone here knows the odds are stacked against us. If we side with one superpower or against another, they'll take it as a violation of our neutrality. Shortly afterwards this island will be invaded by one, if not both of those superpowers."

Galk spoke up next to Helen, "Then you're saying we should just take this sort of lethal interference in our affairs? We had one of the Council-members incinerated and you want to—"

"I did not mean that we won't take measures against this," Zaehringen clarified.

He hoisted a piece of paper with a red stamp upon it, "Two days ago we received an offer of unification from their Majesties King Philippe and Queen Violetta of Lautrec. Their terms were quite generous, and since every member of this Council is aware of the terms," Zaehringen stated, looking at all nine other lords, "I believe a vote now on their offer would be appropriate given the dire circumstances."

Cid objected, "This is not something we should just rush into."

Zaehringen bellowed, "We have to act, Count Malaga. Begging your pardon, but as strong as your wife and her comrades are, they can't prevent this country from being taken over, nor could they prevent Baron Staufen's death. We need a stronger position, and unifying this island is the fastest and easiest way to gain it. We've got an opportunity to unify the island and also finally rid ourselves of this damn insurgency. I recommend that you vote for unification, gentlemen."

Helen and everyone but the Council-members were ushered out of the chamber moments later as the debate began heating up. She walked down the red-carpeted stairs and out the Lord Mayor's Residence front doors when she noticed Valencia in her old Organization-era outfit. Valencia was camped out leaning against a column near the front entrance and sound asleep.

Helen nudged the petite, skinny and attractive-faced claymore awake.

Helen asked, "Oi, Valencia, what are you doing here?"

Valencia blinked a few times, "I was hoping I could convince Phantom Miria to reinstate me as an officer, but it looks like I missed her."

Helen, confused, inquired, "What do you mean reinstate?"

"Miria gave me a dishonorable discharge for not following her orders and endangering lives," Valencia said. "I was just so mad at Mazarin for twisting Jean's mind that I wound up getting myself involved when I shouldn't have. At least she agreed to not execute Jean."

Valencia realized this wouldn't go down well talking to the female her fiancée had attempted to kill, so she placated, "Don't get me wrong Helen, I'm still pissed with him about trying to kill you, but I still love him. So now, here I am, jobless. I don't suppose you have anything I can do?"

Helen gave it a thought and then realized what the one thing the late Nadia had done so well. Nadia had been the Secretary of their secret society, the Monarchist League, which was hell-bent on getting Miria anointed Queen of Toulouse. With island-wide unification a strong possibility, its mission was all the more important now.

Helen grabbed Nadia by the shoulder and hustled her down a nearby alley.

Valencia asked, "Why are we in an alley?"

Helen introduced her subject, "It's about time you and I had a nice chat about something very important. Have you ever heard of the Monarchist League, Valencia?"

* * *

Renée arrived at Staff with the strange foreigner Alexander in tow. Miata was making all sorts of pining faces at him, so Renée made certain to keep her away from almost certain temptation. She gave Alexander his own room near the top of Staff's living quarters, which were rapidly improving with a thousand soldiers' combined efforts. Given the communications' issues, they weren't able to get much more out of him.

Renée had just left him at the cafeteria table with Clarice and Miata when she felt a familiar yoki. Renée clambered up a series of steps at a fast pace. Onwards and onwards the staircase spiraled upwards. Eventually it exited the rock and Renée emerged in the arid lands of Staff. She walked past a number of soldiers digging fortifications when she finally saw the new arrival; in the distance a silver-eyed soldier in armor waved.

Renée ran at good pace across the arid ground and through the considerable heat until the girl was within easy sight. This claymore had long, uniquely curled blond hair and a build that made even Renée sometimes feel envious. She was roughly the same height and carried herself with style and confidence.

"Colonel Anastasia reporting in," the claymore saluted.

Renée returned the salute, and then they hugged.

Anastasia asked in her soft voice, "It's been a long time, eh No. 6?"

"I could say the same No. 7," Renée smiled.

Anastasia and her had been especially close in both numbers and personally. They had drifted apart after the War of Liberation, as Anastasia had had difficulty climbing the ranks given her soft voice and hands-off command style. Miria must have decided Anastasia had deserved the promotion, which Renée was glad to see finally happen.

"Look at you," Renée remarked, "gold-gilded pauldrons, gauntlets and a nice helmet and all. You finally convinced Miria to give you a higher command, eh Anastasia?"

Anastasia sighed, "No."

Renée was caught off-guard by this emphatic response, "What do you mean no?"  
Anastasia looked Renée in the eye and put a hand on her armored shoulder, "I wasn't promoted because I impressed Miria that much. I was promoted to replace Colonel Nadia."

"Why, has something happened?"

Anastasia looked down at the ground, "She died trying to capture Father Mazarin last week. I'm sorry; I don't know what else to tell you."

It hit Renée slowly, "No, not Nadia, how could Nadia have…"

"General Miria said she was killed by gunpowder weapons; I'm not sure what they are but they burn and explode," Anastasia explained.

Renée 's stomach churned in disgust as she sat down upon a nearby rock and put a hand to her forehead. The last person she ever expected anything terrible to happen to was sweet Nadia, who everyone in Rabona generally admired and liked.

Renée managed her nerves enough to ask, "How's Raul?"

Anastasia sat down on a boulder next to her, "Taking it pretty tough. He's hardly eaten anything since his wife died. Cid managed to coax him into eating more regularly, so don't fret."

Renée felt her eyes moistening but blinked back the tears, "This is terrible."

"It gets worse," Anastasia said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?"

"You're being relieved and ordered back to Rabona," Anastasia explained.

She handed Renée a sealed message which Renée opened. It looked like a standard Rabonese message from General Malaga until Renée looked closer.

It told Renée in no uncertain terms that Staff was being reinforced by yet another infantry regiment and a whole company of scout cavalry. Given the insurgency however these sorts of reinforcements ought to have been harder to come by.

Renée asked, "How can we add this many men while putting down the insurgency?"

Anastasia pointed to the message's bottom, "Take a look at the bottom."

On the bottom read, "Orders signed by General Miria Victoire de Beauharnais-Malaga, Commanding Military Officer of the Kingdom of Toulouse."

Renée snapped, "What the hell is this, some kind of joke?"

* * *

Miria was reluctantly following behind the entourage. She was decked out in her finest armor, but had her helmet in her left arm as a mark of respect. They were in the center of the Teresian Cathedral, walking along the red carpeting towards the altar at the far end. The entourage included Lord Mayor Zaehringen, Miria's husband Cid, Ruud van Willems, another eight Council-members, Raki, and two individuals Miria would rather have never seen.

"It is rather magnificent," a very handsome young man said.

He was wearing fine red velvet robes and white ermine, and atop his head was a crown Miria had last seen atop that of his father, King Charles. It was none other than the man Cid had dubbed the 'hunk' king, the dark-haired King Philippe of Lautrec. He was slightly taller than Miria and Cid, and with his robes' extravagance matched only by Zaehringen's and Queen Violetta's royal gown. Violetta for her part had her long black straight perfectly shampooed and immaculately straight, and it was obvious she was six months pregnant from her belly's bump.

"I thought you would appreciate a tour," Zaehringen smiled. "I apologize that you had to listen to that harangue from Bishop Galatea. She regards people with differing faiths like yours as heretics, so your coming into her cathedral is like waving a flag in front of a bull."

Miria gloated inwardly; having the would-be killer of Natalie harangued had been the most satisfying thing in the nightmarish week that had followed Nadia's death. Cid would probably call her joy at Philippe's discomfort unseemly, but it felt great. It was about the only time Miria had appreciated Galatea ranting at someone, which was a first.

"Your women here are quite bold," King Philippe stated as the group walked forward. "The women of Lautrec know their place is in the home, not taking over the church."

"It is regrettable, I must say," Zaehringen agreed. "Had the clergy of the church not so foolishly taken up arms against our government, Galatea would be a mere nun. I am afraid there is nothing I can do to remove her from her post."

Miria bit down on the temptation to speak up; she would have relished nothing more than giving sexists like King Philippe and Lord Mayor Zaehringen a piece of her mind. Thankfully men like them respected force, and claymores could "enforce" their will more than any man. Zaehringen might speak of removing Galatea as Bishop; practically speaking Galatea's lethal combat skills prevented him from making it a real possibility.

"Your honor guard are to be complimented," Queen Violetta said. "I'm afraid we cannot afford such fine armor for our men as you have here."

Miria knew pandering when she heard it; Zaehringen however seemed to like it.

"I'll be sure to pass on your compliments to Raki," Zaehringen smiled. "He's taken over as our Captain of the Council Guard since coming here."

Claire hadn't mentioned that the last time she'd spoken with Miria. She kept it in mind as the group walked down the red-carpeted center aisle. On either side of the aisle, in flawless plate armor, wielding halberds, and wearing rich blue capes were the Council Guards.

Zaehringen asked, "I take it our terms were acceptable?"

"They were tough," King Philippe admitted, "but fair. Is the signing to take place at the table atop the altar?"

"Yes," Zaehringen answered.

The group reached the table and King Philippe sat down in a plush blue chair.

"Here's where you sign to unify the governments of Lautrec and Toulouse," Cid pointed.

Philippe signed promptly, followed shortly thereafter by the gray-bearded Zaehringen.

"Here's where you hand over all military control to the Council of Lords in exchange for a permanent Royal Guard and no taxation by the Exchequer," Cid pointed.

Philippe signed promptly, an act which caused Miria discomfort.

"Lord Mayor, this states that King Philippe and Queen Violetta are to be named reigning constitutional co-monarchs. If you would sign here," Cid pointed.

Lord Mayor Zaehringen signed promptly with a fine quill pen.

"Miria dear, you must sign this next part," Cid added.

There was some visible discomfort on King Philippe's face as she walked to the table and signed what appeared to be an oath of allegiance to both the new monarchs and the Council of Lords. It was distasteful pledging allegiance to a man who had followed his father on slave-raids, attacked Rabona twice, and nearly killed Natalie, so Miria kept her signature quick.

Cid pointed to the very bottom of the stack of papers, "This is the Kingdom of Toulouse Creation Act. If you would both sign please, we can wrap things up."

With a stroke of their pens Zaehringen and Philippe had buried two years of warfare and enmity. They shook hands amidst much clapping, and with much glad-handing left from whence they had came. Miria looked after them with a sour taste in her mouth. Up above she could hear the Teresian Cathedral's bells tolling in celebration of the event.

Cid commented, "You don't have to be so sour on this."

Miria scoffed, "What did you expect me to be, happy that the man who nearly killed Natalie is now my constitutional monarch?"

"Miria, I know you don't like the deal but—"

Miria, noticing that the Council Guards were leaving and out of earshot, sniffed in disgust, "It's like putting two foxes in the henhouse, Cid."

"Even I had objections dear, but you don't see me upset," Cid reasoned.

"Probably because you don't know what they're planning," Miria countered.

"Mira, you have to let the war go," Cid sighed. "King Philippe has handed over control of his military to Rabona, he's only allowed a battalion of Royal Guards, he's not immune from the law, and he's just peacefully placed the lands of Lautrec under Rabona's rule. Not to mention you're now a General and commanding seventeen thousand more troops. What's not to like?"

The Toulousan Inquisition was less dangerous than the two snakes your Council just allowed to take up residence here," Miria stated.

"Thanks to their troops joining our army the Toulousan Inquisition is about to be crushed," Cid reasoned. "The best part is we don't have to worry about another intra-island war. If the superpowers mess with us now, at least we'll be able to speak for the whole island."

"Maybe," Miria agreed, "But I still don't trust either of those two royals."


	9. Chapter 8: Soul link

**Chapter 8: Soul-link**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The History of the Romanow Empire"**

**"It was an unprecedented invasion in size and scope, making it an enormous threat to the Romanow Empire's very existence. Two major thrusts were made on the northern and southern fronts. A third thrust was made between them a few days later, when the empire's forces had already moved to counter the prior attacks. An army of a million men under the command of the four emperors and the chieftain of the draconic tribe rolled forward. Their target was the new imperial capital of Praha.**

**The Grand Alliance had attempted to assassinate the famed general and new empress. Simultaneously, they carried out an assassination attempt against the peacemaker of the Imperial Romanow family, Princess Kasia. Believing they had at least incapacitated both witches, the Grand Alliance decided to launch their ultimate attack. Their efforts left Crown Princess Rima in command of the empire as acting Cesarzowa, a task she was not completely prepared to accept. Nevertheless she was competent enough, and aided by the more competent (but pregnant) Princess Bastia, she managed to rally the armed forces.**

**Rima Romanowa was well-known as a proven, elite warrior and through her connection to her three 'domesticated' Dragonkin. As a military strategist and field commander, Rima was incompetent but she was also aware of her incompetence. Given bad advice by biased military advisors, Rima would make a fateful choice. Rima did not entirely trust her advisors however, and made a fateful decision. The only general she trusted to save the world from being conquered by the Grand Alliance was her sister, who was now in a coma. To save her life, the Crown Princess instructed Countess Dietrich Tuluzy to bring back someone who might be able to save Kasia in time…"**

* * *

Dietrich prodded her gray horse, Gooral, into a gallop, as she approached the red-roofed small city. She slowed down upon reaching the stone road, where Gooral's horseshoes might come off if she weren't careful. She passed by a small line of traveling merchants and their carts and then passed underneath the city gate. She jumped off the horse and landed atop the cobblestones and looked around. She looked very distinctive in her black and gold riding outfit. It featured long brown boots, a black top and semi-skirt, and dark gray trousers.

"Well, look at this, you're coming back a Countess," a female voice remarked.

A lone female slayer dressed in black leather and a few pieces of armor was walking up. This slayer was taller than Dietrich, had a more athletic build, short brown-blond hair, two strands of long bangs to either side of her forehead, and a hawkish nose.

"Alevtina," Dietrich answered, walking up to hug her former comrade, "it is good to see you again! Where is Wenceslaus?"

"Busy like usual," Alevtina replied. "Why are you here now Dietrich?"

"I'm here because he was summoned and supposed to be in Praha days ago," Dietrich snapped. "Crown Princess Rima started yelling at me about why he wasn't there yet to help her."

"Why would the—"

Dietrich started walking right past Alevtina and into the streets of Seville. It didn't feature many buildings over four stories tall, but it had a quaint and rustic appeal to it she liked. Dietrich led on Gooral by the reins as the sparse crowds parted and Alevtina rushed to follow.

"What's going on Dietrich?"

"The entire empire's being invaded, that's what's going on," Dietrich snapped. "The Crown Princess is requesting Wenceslaus' immediate aid."

Alevtina quickly led Dietrich towards where Wenceslaus was working; they climbed Seville's largest hill for several minutes to find its top a hive of construction. Everywhere they went, scaffolding, hammering, bricklaying, and mortar mixing was apparent. At the very pinnacle of Seville, sitting beside a table and working on a large map, was Wenceslaus.

He was rather unusual for a mainland warrior in Dietrich's opinion. He was around the same height of James Havel, but more strongly built. His face featured a vertical scar across it, the slash just barely missing the right eye. Rather more unusually he had a well-trimmed beard, which was darker than his hair, which looked like brown bleached of its color.

Wenceslaus was not wearing a nobleman's uniform, but rather the outfit of a construction foreman. He had a long-sleeved white shirt on, a sleeveless gray jacket over that, and also wore dark gray trousers and brown boots. The only clues to his hybrid nature were his hair and a pair of insightful silver eyes.

"Alright," Wenceslaus said in a deep voice, "I want a team of workmen starting on the first dormitory first thing tomorrow morning."

Wenceslaus was an intimidating figure up close, although Dietrich's experience with him eased her worries as she approached. He glanced up, looking her in the eyes without a smile.

"Your Grace," Dietrich said, making a small bow, "I came back because—"

"You see Wenceslaus," Alevtina interrupted, "you leave her in the Romanow's nest for a month and already she's talking like one of them."

"Do you mind Alevtina? I'm here because the empire's under an all-out attack," Dietrich snapped.

"Alright, alright," Wenceslaus said, putting a hand up, "let's not get over formal or snappy about this. Why does the Cesarzowa need me? I've already rescinded the marriage proposal after those ghastly executions weeks ago."

"You what?"

Wenceslaus stroked his beard briefly, "I sent the empress my regrets, but I'm not marrying a woman who is going to kill her prisoners without giving them a proper trial."

"Oh," Dietrich exclaimed. "Um, Your Grace, here's—"

"Dietrich," Wenceslaus said, grabbing her by the shoulders with both hands, "I don't want to be called by any honorific. You know what I told you about the Romanows, don't you?"

"They're just a bunch of strong claymores who seized power and gave themselves titles?"

"Precisely," Wenceslaus agreed. "Now why are you so frantic to see me?"

Dietrich had forgotten how laid-back, relaxed, and soothing Wenceslaus' could be. Princess Kasia could best be described as the opposite. Wherever she'd gone, Kasia brought excitement, energy, anxiety, and passion to the environment. Wenceslaus in contrast was a calming presence. Crown Princess Rima liked to relax the way Wenceslaus did, but she was far more temperamental.

"It's this," Dietrich said, having to check her urge to add "sir" on the end.

She handed Wenceslaus an imperial message that came directly from the hands of Crown Princess Rima. Dietrich knew it told Wenceslaus in no uncertain terms he had to come to Praha immediately. It also said his help was badly needed and the empire was in a terrible crisis since being invaded. However it omitted the crucial details about the empress being cut off from the vast majority of the empire and Princess Kasia being put into a coma.

Wenceslaus queried, "Why is this coming from Rima and not Katarzyna?"

"The Cesarzowa was cut off from communicating with the vast majority of the Romanow Empire when the Grand Alliance invaded," Dietrich explained. "So the Crown Princess is in command for the moment. The Crown Princess thinks you can help her awaken Princess Kasia from her coma."

"Hold it," Wenceslaus exclaimed, "since when was Kasia in a coma?"

"Since an assassin attempted to kill her with a sedative-tipped knife a week and a half ago," Dietrich explained. "Rima says Kasia will die if you don't help awaken her. She also says if you don't agree to come immediately she'll send Princess Bastia to make sure you do."

"How lovely of her," Wenceslaus said with evident sarcasm.

"Please, you have to help Wenceslaus, Kasia's our best hope. She's the best remaining general we have to face their main army," Dietrich pleaded.

Wenceslaus queried, "You like this Kasia a lot, do you?"

"I like Kasia because she'd have made a great empress," Dietrich explained.

Wenceslaus went silent upon hearing this, seeming to be in deep thought.

"You know Kasia was the one who ordered the deaths of those one hundred slayers who fought against the empress," Wenceslaus pointed out.

"I know she's not a saint," Dietrich sighed, "but if it weren't for Kasia I wouldn't be alive. I owe her at least my best effort to save her life in return for—"

Wenceslaus interrupted calmly but firmly, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean she had the Silver Guard protect me," Dietrich explained. "The assassin who tried to kill me was the same one who put Kasia into a coma with a sedative-tipped blade. Rima thinks the silver-eyed slayer who did it was working for the Grand Alliance, but I—"

Wenceslaus interrupted, "Someone attempted to kill you and you didn't tell me?"

"I meant to send you a message, but I got too busy," Dietrich explained in a huff. "The assassin turned out to be one of my ex-comrades, and she told me I had to die because—"

"We're leaving immediately for Praha," Wenceslaus declared abruptly.

"Already? But why did you change your mind so quickly?"

* * *

"Man," James said, looking over himself, "I look like a damn peacock."

James was dressed in a pair of long brown boots, and a frilly white undershirt. He was commenting however on the puffy black jacket he was wearing. It had long black sleeves, but James was more annoyed about the frilly, puffy shoulder bulges. To make matters worse he was wearing a whimsical black hat with golden feathers atop it in a massive plume. It made him downright embarrassed to be walking around in broad daylight.

"Well I think you look like a gentleman," a strong female voice interrupted.

Kasia was seated not far away at a single white table in the midst of an open meadow. She was wearing a strikingly beautiful black and gold-embroidered dress. Atop her head was the pointy ornamental hat she'd only recently gotten with a massive blue sapphire in its center and diamonds arranged in a flower pattern around it. It had two edges that pointed outwards to either side, giving her a grand, exaggerated presence.

James sighed, "If you say so Kasia."

Kasia brought a black-gloved hand up to her left cheek's makeup-disguised scar and sighed. The rest of her outfit was just as grandiose as her ornamental hat. Her dress featured long sleeves that lengthened as the sleeves got further out on her arm. The dress was also fairly tight against her upper body, showing her fine curves to advantage. The bottom of the dress was flowing in nature. It featured gorgeous gold embroidery throughout that seemed to emphasize her new status.

Kasia asked, "Why are you making this so difficult for me James?"

"I want to believe I did the right thing," James bluntly answered.

"Why is it so hard for you to agree with what I did? We did it for Katarzyna's sake James. You know the Alliance's High Command weren't a bunch of saints. They created the Awakened Being program, they unleashed those horrific Abyss Feeders, they—"

"They created the silver-eyed slayer program," James pointed out. "You and I wouldn't—"

"You're not angry about that James, and you damn well know it. This is about Lillian," Kasia shouted, standing up imperiously. "I want to know right now James, do I have your love or does Lillian have your love?"

James gave Kasia his answer by kissing her full on the lips. Her hat fell off into the grass below as his hands pressed against her back and felt her long, luscious, wavy blond hair. Kasia returned the kiss with some passion, her hands naughtily grabbing his well-muscled ass. She leaned into him and abruptly he fell onto his back with Kasia atop him.

Everything went black as his mind wandered onto yet another memory…

"I'm asking for you to be merciful," James pleaded, nude except for a white nightshirt.

He was sitting atop a massive black-and-gold sheeted canopy bed, which was surrounded on all sides by black and gold-embroidered drapes. Kasia was wearing her cleavage-revealing black and gold-embroidered nightgown while sitting in bed before him. Her face was an emotionless mask for a moment as she flicked some of her long bangs out of her eyes.

Kasia's temper continued, "It is NOT your damn fault James. You did the right thing, so quit feeling guilty about it. She got too clever for her own good; if she'd stayed away from our coup she wouldn't be in prison right now!"

"It's just that you know she isn't evil Kasia," James sighed, "she wasn't doing anything morally wrong when she tried to stop the coup."

"You mean when she tried to kill me," Kasia corrected. "She tried to turn you against me, she killed four Silver Guards, and she brought Victoria McKenzie and her comrades! If Bastia wasn't there I'm not sure there'd have been anyone on either side alive at the end of it."

"Was the status quo back then so bad that—"

Kasia snapped in aggravation, "Have you completely forgotten about the amoral idiots we had in High Command? They were losing the war; they spent more time on hunting and bickering amongst themselves than directing our forces. We did what we had to James; killing them and unifying the alliance into an empire."

"Unifying the alliance? Aren't there—"

A new yoki presence was now very close; thankfully it was also very familiar.

Kasia turned around in bed, "Oh Commander Tymoshenko, just put it down on the bed."

A female Silver Guard appeared near the canopy bed in the dark imperial bedroom. She was wearing a cuirass over her torso, a pair of massive pauldrons over her shoulders, partial plate armor on her legs and arms, and had a beautifully sculpted helmet that barely showed her eyes and nose. She cut an intimidating figure, even though she was shorter than Kasia. She had brown skin, and a single blond ponytail fell out of her helmet.

James asked, "Katja?"

Katja glanced over at him and then turned her eyes upwards.

Katja pleaded, "Mister Havel, can you PLEASE put some pants or covers on?"

James blushed as he realized Katja had just seen him nude from the waist down. He quickly grabbed a couple of covers and threw them over his body. Katja, with eyes still staring upwards, dropped a bunch of heavy armor onto the enormous bed next to Kasia.

James asked, "What's this?"

"Your duratium armor," Katja answered while visibly blushing at him.

James stammered, "But that's—"

Kasia smiled, "Well, since you protected me, I thought you deserved some greater thanks. I convinced Bastia that you would make a good second-in-command to Katja. I know each set of duratium armor is worth as much as a small city, but I think it's worth it. You may leave Katja."

Katja turned to leave after smartly saluting when Kasia thought of something else.

"Oh, and Katja, don't you dare breathe a word about James and me being together to Princess Bastia," Kasia warned.

"Of course I won't," Katja reassured.

Katja left them quietly and a few moments later the far bedroom door closed with a click.

Kasia grabbed a beautiful helmet and put it on his head, sighing as she smiled.

"You'll always protect me, won't you James?"

"I swear I'll never let you come to harm Kasia," he promised.

His memory faded into black again as an overwhelming number of confusing noises and sounds, none loud, seemed to go past him. One of them began to solidify around him. He was waking up in a very familiar Praha Palace bed colored black and gold. It was Kasia's bed, and he felt fear take him as he suddenly got up. Kasia was there, not more than a dozen meters away talking to someone.

"Lillian, aren't you dead?"

James' heart skipped a beat at hearing "Lillian" from Kasia's lips. He sat up and glanced over from Kasia towards where the standing Kasia was staring. There, moving with the silky silence of a predatory cat was a woman in black clothing and a mask. James frantically tossed the covers off as the intruder drew a long knife.

"I…I wanted you to become one of us, a Romanow," Kasia stated, holding her arms out as if to hug the intruder. "But you killed four of my followers, and…"

James shouted, "Kasia, no, that's not Lillian!"

Kasia continued holding out her arms as if he hadn't said a word. James frantically jumped out of bed and raced towards the intruder. The female intruder had silver eyes, and was holding out the knife for a lethal stab into Kasia's head. He pushed himself and jumped, intercepting the attacker in mid-air. She had lost the knife by the time they hit the hardwood floor.

He heard a surprised yelp from behind him; Kasia had just been snapped out of her attacker's yoki manipulation. The intruder suddenly drew a curved blade and attempted to slash him. He jumped back enough to dodge, and then he rushed to the nearby sofa and grabbed Kasia's personal claymore sword. The intruder swung down, which he blocked with ease. He countered with a vicious horizontal slash, which the intruder jumped over.

They landed behind him and were running straight for Kasia with their blade drawn. He twisted to pursue but it wouldn't be in time.

Kasia screamed for help, "Guards, guards, there's an assassin!"

The imperial bedroom's bronze doors smashed down behind Kasia as a dozen of his fellow Silver Guards charged in. The intruder froze for a moment and then changed directions away from him and towards the balcony. He rushed to Kasia's side as the Silver Guards charged past. A pair of Silver Guards rushed up to his side as he kneeled next to Kasia.

Time seemed to slow in excruciating fashion as he noticed a knife hilt stuck in Kasia's left shoulder. Kasia's black nightgown began to stain red around the hilt.

"Nnnnooooooo!"

James snapped awake breathing hard, his heart pounding and adrenaline coursing through his veins. He lifted his head off a large white-sheeted bed to find Kasia sleeping in its center. Her chest was barely moving as she slowly breathed. She was still in a deep coma from the strong sedatives that had been on the intruder's blade. He was in Kasia's convalescence chambers, which, as he was reminded a moment later, was full of others.

"What the hell," a voice snapped, "I'm barely in the room and already you're screaming."

He turned to find a tall, familiar female mere steps away escorted by nearly a dozen Silver Guards. She wore the armor of the Silver Guard, but did not wear a helmet. She had arched eyebrows, an attractive face with a long forehead, piercing silver eyes, long, straight blond hair, and expensive ruby earrings. It was none other than his old former squad mate, Rima.

"Your Imperial Highness," he stammered, rising to his feet while knocking over his chair.

"Lieutenant Commander," Crown Princess Rima addressed him, "for pity's sake, go to bed. She's not going to wake up any sooner even with you at her side for three days straight."

He rose to leave Kasia's side in the small art-adorned room, the room's size making navigating past the Crown Princess' escorts difficult. He was nearly to the door when the Crown Princess made a passing comment.

"Oh, and James," Rima said.

He turned to see her looking at him without a smile.

"I know you seduced her," she stated flatly.

"I did nothing of the sort…Your Imperial Highness," he added, realizing he couldn't speak to Rima like a comrade anymore.

"Cut the bullshit," Rima snapped. "We both know you lusted after her, and we both know she was vulnerable to it. You put the entire imperial family at risk because you couldn't hold it in."

"But she was the one who wanted the—"

"No she wasn't," Rima interrupted. "I'll be deciding your fate later; about the only thing running in your favor is you stopped her dying in the immediate attack. Now leave us."

He left the room nearly in tears; Rima, despite her hidden sympathetic nature, believed in the political impossibility of him being involved with Kasia. He had told Rima the truth, but his past behavior was still hurting his testimony in the present. The truth was that in the week after the coup Kasia had asked that he stay by her side and sleep with her. He could hardly say no, especially to Kasia, but Rima would never believe that considering how brashly he'd pursued Kasia in years past. He smashed a closed fist into the side of the palace hall's marble walls in frustration. It seemed he was forever cursed to problems when it came to love.

"Good morning Lieutenant Commander," a cultured female voice addressed him.

High overhead a series of arched stained windows let in colored light into the large, expansive hall. The light fell down in heavenly rays upon the female slayer who had addressed him. She wore a black and gold-embroidered dress much like the Cesarzowa's. James' heart fluttered as he realized who was walking towards him.

She wore no ornamental hat, but instead had her blond hair fixed into a large, ornate bun atop her head. Unlike Rima and Kasia, her face had not even the slightest imperfection. She had perfect cheekbones, paler skin than the bronze-skinned Rima, a regal nose, and a strutting arrogance to her strides. She was considerably shorter than Rima and Kasia, but she was also less lanky and better proportioned. She also had ornate black and white pearl earrings that gave her an especially wealthy appearance. She looked like the perfect princess, except for the large pregnancy bump in her middle. There was only one pregnant member of the imperial family: the cultured, militaristic, arrogant and ruthless Princess Bastia.

James said, "Your Imperial Highness, Princess Bastia, it is a great relief to—"

Bastia scoffed, "Is it really James? We catch you red-handed in her bedroom and you failed to protect her at the most crucial moment. As far as I care, you can hand in your commission in the Silver Guards today."

"That is not your decision to make," Rima's voice interjected.

James swiveled to find Crown Princess Rima walking up in her armor with a number of aides. He knew immediately why Rima had objected upon hearing Bastia's threat; Rima and Bastia were legendary for their mutual dislike of one another.

Bastia silkily left an air of menace in her voice, "May I ask why not?"

A well-dressed slayer with corn-rowed blond hair and dark skin rushed up between the two. He held up his hands as Bastia frowned and the taller Rima scowled. It was Leon; Bastia's husband.

"Your Imperial Highness," he said to Rima, then turned to Bastia, "Bastia my dear, please, now is not the time to have a row over a mere Silver Guard."

"Who will be demoted, I assure you," Rima promised, which made James flinch.

"Why do you go easy on such scoundrels when he deserves—"

Things might have deteriorated between the two but for the exceptional timing of a messenger in a black-and-gold military tunic. He rushed up just as Bastia was saying her inflammatory words and made a quick bow.

"Your Imperial Highnesses," he said, bowing at the waist, "Duke Wenceslaus and his aides have just arrived."

* * *

"I hope you're right Duke Wenceslaus," Crown Princess Rima sighed.

Dietrich stood back in a puffy red gown her paramour, Jaroslaw Tusk, had given her. They were in Kasia's small convalescence room, which was stuffed full of people. Rima, the pregnant Princess Bastia, Wenceslaus, Alevtina, herself, a dozen Silver Guards in full armor, and even a few nurses tending the unconscious Princess Kasia. It left very little room for anyone to move around as they got close to the Kasia's bedside.

"Duke Wenceslaus," Dietrich said, knowing that being informal around the imperial family would go down badly, "are you sure you wouldn't want to do this yourself?"

Wenceslaus, wearing a more proper dark gray jacket and black trousers, scoffed, "Someone with as much Yoma energy as me would only endanger the process of waking her from a deep coma. Those who are going to enter the princess' mind must have much less Yoma energy than hers, otherwise we'll only push her beyond her limits."

Rima asked, "Are you quite sure these two are the best people for the task?"

Rima was looking at Dietrich and the less gaudily dressed Alevtina. They, due to some experience in intensive yoki manipulation in the past two years, had been assigned to the task of waking Kasia from her coma. Dietrich was less than confident in accomplishing the task, but experienced Alevtina was supposed to be the primary worker in the task. Dietrich would only be there to make certain Alevtina didn't lose consciousness and soul-link into Kasia's consciousness.

Wenceslaus, now clean-shaven after Dietrich's advice that this would make him seem younger and less threatening, sighed. "I cannot guarantee you that Alevtina will be able to wake her up Crown Princess," Wenceslaus pointed out.

Rima snapped, "How long will it take to succeed?"

"I have no idea," Wenceslaus admitted, "I've never had them awaken a warrior from a coma. They've stopped people from awakening, helped others heal through yoki synchronization, and—"

"We can understand the hazards just fine Duke Wenceslaus," Bastia stated, an apprehensive air now in her voice.

It had not occurred to Dietrich before just how Bastia and Rima could stand being part of the same family. The worried looks and uncharacteristic pleading tones in both Rima and Bastia's voices reminded her of one person they both loved: Kasia. It was possible that the one thing that kept them from having more spats was the very real possibility of Kasia's disapproval.

"I'm going to need as many people to leave so I can enter Princess Kasia's yoki safely," Alevtina declared. "Princess Bastia, I'm not sure of the risks, but I don't want the yokis of your twins anywhere in the room."

The pregnant Bastia flinched and looked at the unconscious, brown-skinned Kasia and let out a big sigh. She left the room without an objection, followed shortly thereafter by her dark-skinned husband and all of the Silver Guards but one: James Havel.

Alevtina continued prodding people to leave, "Duke Wenceslaus, Your Imperial Highness," she addressed Wenceslaus and Rima, "I can't have people with such strong Yoma energy anywhere nearby. I need everything to be as sterile around Princess Kasia as possible."

Rima, who was visibly biting her lips, left with an anxious look back as two human nurses stayed beside Kasia. Wenceslaus followed, and Dietrich noticed he wasn't armed. James Havel looked as if he were about to faint from the tension, but Alevtina didn't object to his presence.

Dietrich asked, "Lieutenant Commander Havel, why are you still here?"

"I'm an excellent yoki sensor," he explained.

"Dietrich, we'll count down from ten to my mark. When you reach that mark, you'll close your eyes with me and we'll start intruding into Princess Kasia's yoki," the short-haired Alevtina instructed. "Just keep as calm as you can."

Dietrich found that harder than it sounded, as she realized Kasia's life was solely in their hands and she'd never done such a task before.

Alevtina began counting from ten in the empire's tongue, "Dziesięć, dziewięć, osiem, siedem, sześć, pięć, cztery, trzy, dwa, jeden, znak!"

Dietrich closed her eyes and felt the ordinary world sweep away as she delved into the dark of the yoki world. She could sense Alevtina's modest yoki like a light burning at the same intensity before her. Behind was the flickering, nervous light that was James' yoki. Try as Dietrich could, she couldn't detect Kasia's yoki, despite the very small distance between them. Reflexively she reached out with her physical hand and found Kasia's hand.

She detected a very faint flicker and approached it gingerly. She brushed it with a stroke of her Yoma energy, and abruptly it began burning several times as bright. She frantically used an even more delicate touch to caress Kasia's yoki into a less excited state. It was now stronger and constant, but still didn't show the slightest sign of being pro-active like that of a conscious warrior's yoki.

Alevtina's yoki grasped at Kasia's more revealed yoki carefully, seemingly trying to open it to inspection. Dietrich saw an opening in the yoki towards a softer light in its center and made the plunge. An overwhelming amount of lights and sounds flashed before Dietrich, and alarmingly she could no longer find herself in the darkness and lights of the yoki world. She realized she had to wake up immediately and opened her eyes.

She found herself staring up at Rima, although this Rima seemed younger and less mature somehow. She was also wearing a full-body black leather outfit underneath a simple steel cuirass. To these Rima added a pair of gaunlets over her lower arms and hands, some hanging tassets over her upper legs, and a simple, open-faced steel helmet in one arm.

"Morning, Kasia," Rima addressed Dietrich.

Dietrich tried to say she wasn't Kasia, but the words never came. Instead she felt her mouth utter something else in a very different voice than her own, "Dzień dobry! Are we going to hit that valley fortress today Rima?"

Rima smiled, "That's up to Commander O'Malley. Come on Kasia, up you get."

Rima pulled her up as Dietrich's eyes took in much longer legs than she now possessed.

Dietrich felt a raw fear rip through her conscious self as she realized she was in Kasia's memories. She must have accidentally soul-linked with Kasia Romanowa. If she didn't figure a way to get out in three weeks, she'd end up dying asleep right next to the unconscious Kasia…

* * *

James noticed in alarm, as he sensed the yokis of Dietrich and Alevtina that something was off. Kasia's yoki had just spiked and then suddenly fallen, while Alevtina's yoki was radiating distress and concern. Dietrich's yoki on the other hand…

The door to Kasia's convalescence room was smashed open, with James turning to see the burly, scarred, pale-skinned Wenceslaus enter. He was followed by the squawking objections of Crown Princess Rima and every single Silver Guard he could imagine.

Wenceslaus looked in alarm over at Dietrich, whose closed eyes showed movement. They seemed to be rolling upwards under the eyelids, and a moment later the red gown-wearing Dietrich dropped face-first upon the bed.

Wenceslaus shouted at Alevtina as Rima tried to hold him back, "What's going on with Dietrich? Why is her yoki disappearing?"

The pixie-haired, long-banged Alevtina snapped her eyes open, "She's accidentally soul-linked with Princess Kasia, now get—"

"Get out of the room and let her work," Rima shouted at Wenceslaus, struggling mightily with four different Silver Guards to hold him back. "I'm going to—"

Wenceslaus ordered the stress-looking Alevtina, "Get her out of the soul-link then!"

"She can't do that without killing both of them," James shouted, cutting off Wenceslaus' approach to Kasia's bed. "If your yoki gets any closer they might—"

At this moment a svelte, long blond-haired man in red and yellow robes rushed into the room and yanked Wenceslaus back by the collar. Wenceslaus went flying backwards, along with Crown Princess Rima and the four Silver Guards. They landed against the far wall of the hall as the man quickly left the room.

James looked at Alevtina, who shook her head.

"Don't worry, I've got everything stabilized, just keep all warriors out of the room while I work," Alevtina shouted. "I think I can get them out of the soul-link and conscious in just under three weeks, but it's going to be a close race."

Out in the hallway a veritable shouting match was going on, with James having no doubt as to whom the newcomer could be.

"You sentimental old fool," the newcomer said. "What did you think you would gain by endangering the Princess and your aide? Was it so necessary to find out what was happening?"

The newcomer stood a little shorter than Wenceslaus, and had his long hair flowing to just past the shoulders. He was considerably leaner than the burly Wenceslaus, who was grudgingly rising to his feet and scowling. Whereas Wenceslaus had an unrefined air to him, made obvious by the vertical sword scar on the right side of his face, the newcomer was much the opposite.

"Sergei," Wenceslaus hissed in his deep, gruff voice, "what are you doing here?"

James walked out into the hall and helped Crown Princess Rima to her feet.

"Saving you from accidentally killing a princess," Sergei sniffed, an amused smile upon his flawless face. "I was invited here by Her Supreme Imperial Majesty weeks ago in order for her to decide between us."

The displeased look on Wenceslaus' face was unmistakable. Rima grabbed her imperial hat and rose to her impressive height, standing only slightly taller than Sergei and slightly shorter than his rival, Wenceslaus.

"That is not going to happen again," Rima declared, dusting off her hat as her maids frantically combed through her now-messy hair. "Tymoshenko, if either of these two tries to get into my little sister's chambers again, you can use force to stop them."

The brown-skinned commander of the Silver Guard nodded and motioned to her subordinates, who lined either side of the door to Kasia's room.

"James, tell me what the hell just happened," the Crown Princess demanded.

"The Hrabina, Countess Tuluzy, she went for an opening in Princess Kasia's yoki and accidentally soul-linked with her," James explained.

"Your Imperial Highness," Sergei said, walking forward, "I'm sorry for throwing you all backwards, but if you had only waited for my expert aides—"

Rima rounded on him, "Can they get my little sister out of a soul-link safely?"

Sergei bit his lip, "Well, Your Imperial Highness, if they had—"

The Crown Princess cut him off, "If they can't help Alevtina now, then don't bother me about it! The two of you will be helping me mobilize the empire for total war. Minhe Choung Park and Indira will be arriving tomorrow, so don't even think about getting into a little scrap," Rima warned.

James felt his stomach clench as he noticed Sergei and Wenceslaus had not once turned their backs on each other. It was like Kasia had long said; the idealist Wenceslaus and the ruthlessly pragmatic Sergei hated one another with a passion not even an invasion that promised to kill them all could quench.

* * *

Kasia walked forward in the sunshine warily, and then rushed to the side of the wooden wall. She took a glance around the opening in the wall and found a massive creature hardly moving a mere hundred meters away. She glanced back at Lillian and the rest of the squad and made a stop motion with her hand.

The rest of squad 158 stopped and kneeled as Kasia took another glance. The Dragonkin in question was in the midst of a seemingly derelict wooden fort. Its parade grounds were littered with the stripped remains of horses, their skeletons torn apart and bare of flesh. There were no men in sight, and the Dragonkin seemed barely alive. Its spike-topped body was lying on the ground, its horribly withered sides barely expanding with breath.

The fort was in the bottom of the mountain pass, with massive, snow-capped peaks all around. Given the difficulty of resupply to the area, Dietrich could admire Kasia's logic progression of attacking the supply lines. Of course, there was the minor problem of being trapped in Kasia's memories while their bodies wasted away in the real world. There was also the increasing issue of Dietrich being able to feel each and every movement of Kasia's body as if it were her own. It made it harder to observe properly when it felt like she was actually doing everything Kasia was doing.

The lone Dragonkin Kasia observed was not the only one; already she could smell the foul stench of others. A pair of weak roars echoed across the kilometer-wide camp, which had many of its numerous barracks and the central keep smashed. Kasia observed a pair of ghastly-thin Dragonkin standing up near the central keep. However they made no attempt to walk towards their barely-living compatriot near Kasia.

A fourth Dragonkin could be heard far away and well out sight, but it did not seem to be getting any closer. Kasia gave the all-clear thumbs up to the strawberry-blond Lillian crouched behind her, who motioned the rest of the ten-warrior squad forward. Princess Bastia ran up alongside Kasia wearing a short sword, her hair rolled up in a ridiculously complex braid. Dietrich noticed Bastia's head barely got to Kasia's shoulders.

Lillian rushed up alongside Kasia and took a look around the smashed opening in the wall, "Well, congratulations Kasia, it seems your strategy was a complete success. They're all on death's door," Lillian observed.

"We should kill them all," Bastia stated.

"I am not so dishonorable that I would want to do that," Lillian objected.

Kasia sighed, "Commander, I know it's not honorable, but if they live and kill other warriors, their blood will be on our hands."

Dietrich found herself not quite sure who was morally right between Kasia and Lillian. It was a moral dilemma made worse by feeling as if she literally inhabited Kasia's body in the memory.

Lillian sighed, "I know you're right, but it just feels wrong…"

"Phtth, whatever," Rima interjected, nonchalantly walking right by all of them, through the smashed opening, and towards the Smok. "This bastard is nothing less than a monster, and monsters DESERVE NO MERCY!"

The pure, raw hatred and anger in Rima's voice was impossible to ignore.

"If you're not going to kill them commander, then I will," Rima stated, drawing out her enormous claymore. "Come on Kasia, we'll finish them off together."

Kasia stood up and followed Rima into open ground while Lillian stayed put. Bastia followed along, as did the short-haired Katherine and dark-skinned Nana. Kasia noticed the Dragonkin before them was so weak it could barely move its massive head to better see them. She approached carefully to the left of Rima, drew her sword, and gazed upon the skin-and-bones monster. Its ribs were sticking out in horrible relief; it had lost all muscle tone, and its long arms, tail and legs were seemingly stuck to the ground. If it had been standing, its head could easily have cleared a 3rd floor window.

Kasia jumped onto the creature's back carefully, dodging between spikes with care. It didn't even move to stop her, so she moved onto the back of its neck. She held back her blade for the killing blow through the spine at the base of its neck.

"I'll put you out of your misery," Kasia stated while Rima looked on.

Gathering her full strength, Kasia swung with everything she had except using additional Yoma energy. She felt the spine resist the swing for a moment, but only a moment. Her blade severed it cleanly, a small spray of blood flinging out. Within seconds the Dragonkin's breathing was halted, leaving Rima to smile.

"That's one fucking bastard down. Nice job on the swing sis," Rima complimented. "Let's go kill the rest of them. You're welcome to join in anytime Commander!"

"No thanks," Lillian said, walking up to the now deceased Dragonkin.

With an enthusiastic jump off, Rima charged straight for the barely standing pair of even larger Dragonkin near the keep. Ten minutes later, both were dead, as was the fourth that had tried to escape Kasia. Dietrich felt a melancholy hit her as she experienced the memory; she now knew Kasia had lied to her regarding the fate of these creatures.

* * *

Kasia sat down at the booth, a small four-candle chandelier above lighting it just enough to see by. She flicked a hand through her long, wavy, shampooed blond hair.

"You're looking radiant as ever," James complimented, sitting down opposite her.

James was dressed like her in full-body black leather but not his armor, much like Kasia. They were seated in a restaurant in the city of Pradesh, where they'd just arrived only a day prior from their Kagano mission. Their arrival in Pradesh was not terribly celebratory, but at least their handlers awarded some initial performance bonuses. Pending confirmation of the four Smokowcy being dead they would have to wait a few days.

James had asked her to go to dinner with him, and Kasia had agreed. Unfortunately for them both, there was one other person who had rather objected to this arrangement.

Rima slid in next to Kasia while James scowled.

James asked, "Why is it you had to come with us?"

Rima scoffed, "With a perverted guy like you, why wouldn't I come? The last damn thing I need to hear about is how you're trying to feel her up in public."

"I thought she'd like it," James snapped. "How was I supposed to know she didn't like what Noir did?"

"Well maybe you should've used your pea-sized brain and thought about it," Rima shot back. "Kasia isn't the squad commander, and you're NOT the only male in our squad. Just because Noir liked you to feel her up in front of everyone else to emphasize her status doesn't mean you should try to feel up Kasia too. Speaking of that, why the hell didn't you ever kick him in the groin Kasia?"

Kasia was busy trying to ignore the melodramatics her chaperone and supposed date were having. She glanced around, noticing the unique, colorful interior. It smelled strongly of curry in the restaurant, and had been full of people until they arrived. Many of the human clientele were now leaving the large restaurant. A single, petite waitress walked up just as Rima and James had finally stopped shouting at one another.

"Kasia," Rima said, prodding her, "why didn't you—"

"I am TRYING to enjoy my seventeenth birthday Rima, and all you seem to want to do is make me miserable," Kasia snapped as the waitress nervously approached them.

"But," Rima stammered.

"We'll have the curry with white rice and chicken," Kasia stated, flashing her 'big sister' an unhappy expression. "I'll have a small beer, whatever is on tap, and so will they."

"Yes of course," the waitress agreed.

Kasia noticed the brown-skinned waitress was wearing a yellow Sari, and underneath it all her body was shaking in fear. Kasia didn't comment as the waitress took their menus and left.

"Kasia, come on, I mean he's been nothing but a sex-craving nut that has—"

"James may have been a real boor in the first few months," Kasia snapped, "but he's gotten better. Besides, it's not like we've done anything like what you fear."

James merely twittled his fingers and tried to act as if he hadn't heard anything as he sat opposite them.

"So," James said into the awkward silence, "it's your seventeenth birthday Kasia?"

"Yeah," Kasia sighed. "Can you guys just not argue and let me enjoy our victory?"

Rima looked as if she didn't know quite what to do. On the one hand Rima was eyeing James with some distaste, but on the other hand Rima seemed to accept her sister's request.

James stated, "I have to hit the bathroom. I'll be right back."

James walked hurriedly down the aisle, past a pair of terrified hostesses, and then turned left towards the out-of-sight bathrooms.

Rima nudged Kasia to ask, "What exactly do you see in him?"

Kasia sighed and looked over with annoyance.

"Well, I'm sorry Kasia, but any other girl would've kneed his balls to the walls after the shit he's pulled," Rima sniffed. "He tried groping your boobs in front of the squad, he's tried grabbing your ass a so much I've lost count, and he's constantly trying to seduce you. Why do you put up with him?"

"As I said Rima," Kasia snapped, "he's gotten better. Do you know how screwed up Noir made him in the head?"

"I don't need to know, I've seen it," Rima sniffed.

"No, you really don't know, and that's why you were always giving him hell since day one," Kasia snapped. "You don't understand him at all!"

"Okay, I'll fucking bite," Rima sighed, "what is it about James I don't understand?"

"James is three years older than us," Kasia started.

"That's hardly—"

"Let me finish," Kasia snapped. "He was made an active warrior when he was fourteen, not fifteen like us. He was transferred into Noir's squad and discovered he was the lone male soldier. Do you know what happens to the lone male slayer in a squad?"

"Look, I know the female squad commanders claim the guy and screw them, but honestly Kasia, him screwing Noir isn't—"

Kasia continued, "There was a power struggle in that squad before we arrived. You remember their tracker, Liang?"

"Vaguely," Rima said, stretching out her legs onto the other side of the booth. "Why, did Liang take a fancy to James?"

"James had just arrived and he became an object of status amongst the girls," Kasia explained. "Noir tried to pressure him into sleeping with her, but he refused."

Rima sat up, "Wait, did you just say he refused to screw her?"

Kasia huffed, "Obviously that's what I said. Liang took it to mean he thought Noir was too weak for his tastes, so she challenged Noir to a fight to be squad commander. Liang lost, and Noir beat Liang pretty mercilessly. James tried to intervene and get Noir to be merciful. Noir instead beat him up and forced herself upon him in front of the entire squad."

Rima couldn't quite manage a response at first. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was opened but no words came.

Rima, looking shocked, asked, "Wait, how did you find this out?"

"James told me," Kasia stated.

"Now Kasia, maybe you should take this with a grain of salt," Rima suggested. "That does seem like a pretty tall tale."

"Well I believe him, even if you are incapable of it," Kasia gruffly countered. "Besides, do you think Noir was a saint towards him? She was obsessed with possessing him like a status symbol. Anytime a new female slayer arrived in the squad, Noir forced James to have sex with her in front of the squad. If he didn't grope her in front of everyone, she beat him. She twisted him up inside for four years before we arrived, and you want to blame him for behaving like how Noir desired. Maybe you should be a little more forgiving," Kasia stated in a grave voice.

Dietrich found herself sympathizing with James' tale while experiencing Kasia's memory.

"Alright, so it's not so hard for me to believe Noir was a screwed-up bitch," Rima sighed. "I just want to know why you let him hang…"

James rushed back into sight, which caused even usually blunt Rima to fall silent. He was jingling a pair of flashy objects in one hand as he giddily ran up and slid into the booth.

"Look what I got you," James said, jingling a pair of flashy, cheap-looking earrings.

He handed them over with a pleased smile upon his face and flicked a hand over his short white hair. Rima took one look and scoffed, but Kasia sighed.

She leaned over and kissed James lightly on the lips and then sat back down.

"Thanks James, that was very kind of you," Kasia complimented him.

James looked rather awestruck, and was too shocked for words. A smile started growing upon his face while Rima hid her face in her hands.

Kasia, with two small pricks of pain, inserted the earrings into her earlobes with ease.

James' eager look was unmistakable, "So you like them?"

"They're the best birthday gift I've gotten so far," Kasia stated as Rima swallowed her pride next to her. "I appreciate the thoughtfulness."

Rima snapped, "I was going to get you something but…"

Kasia could feel James hand touching her knee and begin moving his hand up her thigh towards her groin.

"No James," Kasia stated firmly.

Rima was less subtle in her disapproval. She promptly smashed a steel boot into James' stomach in a vicious under-table kick. He crumpled onto the booth and immediately began hacking up blood.

Kasia cried out in alarm, "Rima, you bitch, that's not what I wanted to happen!"

Kasia shoved Rima out of the booth and onto the restaurant floor. She frantically rounded the table and dragged James delicately onto the floor.

"He got what was coming to him," Rima snapped, standing up as Kasia frantically began tending to the hacking James.

Kasia stood up, turned around, and surprised Dietrich by unleashing a hellishly fierce slap across Rima's face.

"You may fucking leave," Kasia spat as Rima reacted with a shocked expression.

"But…"

Dietrich could tell Kasia was really upset, as Kasia was crying tears and clenching her fists at Rima, "You ruined my birthday! I don't need you as my fucking chaperone!"

Dietrich was in shock as she experienced speaking the curses. Kasia had never struck her as particularly temperamental, but it was obvious Rima's treatment of James on her birthday had finally caused her to snap.

Rima, looking startled at the sudden temper of Kasia, backpedaled and walked towards the front of the empty restaurant. Kasia wiped away her tears and kneeled besides the injured James. She began to use her Yoma energy crudely in an attempt to help boost his healing.

"Kasia, I think we've got a problem," Rima interrupted.

Kasia looked up to find Rima flanked by two identical twin female warriors. They were wearing some sort of flexible black fabric on their arms and legs in addition to their armor, which had also been painted black. They were dark-skinned, looking to be of Bantu descent with their broad noses and large lips. Each had their blond hair arranged into nearly identical corn-row patterns. On all sides of them were hundreds of troops converging around them, their weapons pointed straight at the backpedaling Rima, Kasia, and even James.

* * *

Kasia blinked her eyes open to find herself atop an enormous plush object. It appeared to be a massive yellow bed. She attempted to get up and felt light-headed as she got up. She fell back onto the bed awkwardly and then remembered. The freakish identical twins, who were radiating a bizarre yoki, had told them it was illegal for slayers to eat in human establishments on alliance territory. They'd tried to reason with the handler of the twins, but he ordered them to each take a yoki pill.

They were then knocked out in short order by the twins, not even being allowed to defend themselves. This was about all Kasia could remember, so she started shouting.

Kasia yelled, "James, Lillian, Rima, anyone?"

She tried to stand up again and found it very difficult.

"I wouldn't try moving around too much in those restraints," a rough male voice said in heavily accented Comnenian. "They're made of pure duratium; the same metal your kind's swords are forged with."

Kasia felt a cool metal wrapping around her arms, and two separate sets of metal against her upper and lower legs. She knew immediately her arms were restrained behind her back by what felt like a full arm restraint. With great difficulty she bent her knees and sat up. She suddenly noticed she wasn't wearing any clothing other than a small corset around her belly and lower back. She was thus providing a rather erotic view to the pudgy, balding, brown-skinned man sitting in a huge chair not far from the bed.

He was wearing hugely elaborate white and black robes, although these did not hide his advancing age, gray hairs, or big belly. He was puffing on a huge cigar and watching her with obvious interest.

"I demand you set me free this instant," Kasia shouted.

"You're in no position to demand anything young slayer," the man stated. "You see, I'm the highest-ranking lord in this part of the Bengali Empire. I am Viceroy Bahadur, and this is my palace. You could say I am the administrative ruler of this part of the Alliance of Nations"

"What do you want from me?"

Bahadur, who looked to be considerably squatter and shorter, merely laughed.

The room was enormous, with all the floors, ceilings, and walls made of varying hues of marble. Numerous ridiculous-sized pieces of furniture dotted the room, which was bigger than any house Kasia had ever visited. Its ceiling stretched nearly three stories above her. At the room's far end sunlight filtered through enormous, mostly translucent green drapes.

"I even had to dye your hair a dark brown to match her hair color," the Viceroy stated.

The Viceroy walked forward, hopped onto the bed beside her, and reached out. Kasia tried to squirm away, but instead she merely fell over, onto her back. Bahadur fondled her right breast, at which Kasia stilled her breathing.

"My late wife was just the same in bed," Bahadur said fondly. "Always reluctant to share herself with me, but she made up for it with a great body. In fact, you look incredibly alike, right down to your great height."

Dietrich had never felt such a disturbing thing in her life as Bahadur's hand roaming Kasia's body in the memory. She could feel Kasia sweating in fear as Bahadur began to disrobe.

Kasia struggled to get away from the Viceroy as he kneeled over her with his unattractive body. His robes parted to reveal his erect lust for her.

"Don't worry, I'll keep you safe here dear," Bahadur stated, leaning in to kiss her.

Kasia squirmed to avoid his lips, but shackled and drugged like she was there was little she could do but wriggle. Dietrich could feel the panic in Kasia as the Viceroy lowered himself onto her.

"You'll never leave me again, my eternally young beauty," Bahadur whispered into her ear. "Just give me what I want dear."

"I'm not your wife," Kasia shouted.

Bahadur smiled and then kissed her neck.

"I'll admit I never expected you to reincarnate and become a slayer dear," he stated, "But I'm willing to look past that."

Dietrich had never seen such a shocking and appalling abuse of authority for personal reasons, even during her days in the Organization. She almost felt as one with Kasia as she willed on Kasia to succeed in her struggles.

Bahadur rolled Kasia over onto her belly. She suddenly saw the pair of dark-skinned identical twin slayers from earlier standing in the doorway as if nothing were happening.

Kasia screamed, "Help me, goddammit, why are you just standing there and watching?"

"Now, now dear, there's no reason to get so feisty," Bahadur soothed, "my dedicated bodyguards would never interrupt us. They are conditioned to always obey their master."

Kasia felt herself getting light headed as Bahadur pulled himself atop her, positioning himself behind her. Kasia saw an image of her dark-skinned mother being bent over a bed by a "client" in her head. This was the last thing she saw before everything went blank.

* * *

"Kasia, come on Kasia, little sis, wake up," Kasia heard Rima say.

She felt Rima's arms with relief and opened her eyes.

She sat up and clutched at her chest only to find it fully clothed in her regular black leather. Kasia breathed a deep sigh of relief, even though she could tell they were in a dark, dank prison. Kasia sat up and found she was still drugged, only this time she was surrounded by her squadmates. They all had their lower legs and arms wrapped by duratium restraints, with Lillian sighing in relief beside Rima.

"Oh thank goodness," Lillian said, "we were so worried when they brought you in and we couldn't wake you up.

Kasia looked around, "Where is he? Where's the Viceroy?"

White-haired James came forward, "Kasia, what are you talking about? You were dumped in here with the rest of us a day after we were all arrested and processed for breaking the law in this empire."

He tried to reassure her with a touch, but Kasia drew back.

"Don't touch me," she snapped.

Lillian, who had been looking at Kasia dourly, sighed, "Kasia is there some reason why your hair is dyed?"

Kasia's chance to answer was interrupted as the clink-clack of steel boots on the cement floor of the prison. A quartet of individuals was walking closer, their features obscured by the dark.

"That's them," Princess Bastia's voice said, "open this door immediately!"

A jailer and another guard holding about a dozen keys apiece walked up to the cell door in coarse chain-mail armor, each armed only with a short sword. Standing behind the jailer was the shorter Princess Bastia, this time properly armed with a massive claymore and in a regular slayer's black leather and armor outfit. Bastia had somehow gotten her hair arranged in a complex bun, which was in contrast to the somewhat taller slayer next to her.

The cell door clicked open with a squeak, and the jailer hurriedly removed all their restraints while Bastia personally removed Kasia's restraints. Kasia felt an immense relief and hugged Bastia tight, who returned it.

"You don't have to worry," Bastia reassured. "I made sure he won't go near you ever again."

Kasia's heart skipped a beat upon hearing this from Bastia's lips. She had been hoping it was all a bad dream, but the dyed hair had already been sobering her to expect otherwise.

James' eyes immediately narrowed, "Did someone try to do something to Kasia?"

"Don't even think about vengeance Havel," Bastia warned. "Viceroy Bahadur's bodyguards are NOT just for show. You'd last about three seconds until they tore you to shreds."

"Kasia," James said, "what did he try to do?"

"Viceroy Bahadur thought Kasia looked like a reincarnation of his wife, so he had the whole squad jailed on false charges to keep you from interrupting his time with her," Bastia stated rather maturely for a twelve-year-old. "Thankfully he didn't have luck go his way before I managed to pull rank on him."

James clenched his fists, "He tried to rape her, didn't he?"

"I wouldn't try anything stupid in revenge," Bastia warned as the entire squad remained in a shocked silence. "Anyways, I met the senior slayer commander in the area, and she says we'd be a great asset on a high-value mission."

Bastia gestured to the slayer beside her as the jailer and guard left the cell and walked away. This slayer was roughly Lillian's height, with gray hair, two parted bangs, and had her hair pinned in back into a ponytail. It was a look that made her appear vaguely similar to Phantom Miria in Dietrich's estimation. However the slayer had rather distinct features, her face a blend of the narrow eyes of a Siyamese and the pointier nose of a Khaledonian.

The athletic slayer walked forward just as Kasia got up.

"I'm Commander Katarzyna Yushchenko," the slayer said.

Dietrich could hardly believe what she was hearing and seeing in Kasia's memory. Even if she was endangering her life by having soul-linked with Kasia, this memory alone was worth it. There was only one person who the plain-faced Katarzyna Yushchenka could be: the future empress of the Romanow Empire and destroyer of the Alliance of Nations' High Command.

"I would like to know which of you Rima Romanowa is," Katarzyna stated.

Rima stood up and said, "I am."

"Rima, you're now squad 162's Commander," Katarzyna said in a gorgeous voice.

"Eh," Rima remarked, "But I never asked to be promoted to—"

Katarzyna shook the taller Rima's hand, "You are the same number 3140 who killed a Dragonkin on her first mission, are you not?"

"Well yes," Rima admitted, "I did do that."

Katarzyna continued, "You also killed four more Dragonkin recently, did you not?"

"Well actually they were all half dead when we got there thanks to my sister's tactics," Rima said, pointing straight at Kasia. "Besides, Kasia killed two of them herself."

Katarzyna seemed to be staring straight into Kasia's eyes for a moment before she turned to Lillian, who abruptly turned from relaxed to tense.

Katarzyna inquired of Lillian, "How exactly did your squad manage to kill four Dragonkin with such ease?"

Lillian stepped forward, "We hit their only supply line and starved them for a month before we attacked their base. It was Kasia Romanowa's idea to hit their supply lines."

Katarzyna queried, "Kasia, would you be interested in commanding a squad?"

"No, I can't afford to lose Kasia as well," Lillian snapped. "She's my best fighter."

"You won't be able to keep her with you forever, Commander O'Malley," Katarzyna said. "A brilliant slayer like her is destined for command. By the way, you'll be receiving some four replacements to replace your three losses and Rima leaving."

Rima spoke up, "Commander Yushchenka, what exactly is the mission I will be leading my new squad on alongside Lillian's squad?"

Katarzyna replied warmly, "There'll be four squads in total, full-strength, 12 slayers per. I'll have overall command and lead squad 53, there will your squad Rima, Lillian's squad, and also squad 10. They recently lost their leader, so I would really like if Kasia might be—"

"Absolutely not," Lillian hissed. "I need her strength behind me."

"Very well," Katarzyna sniffed. "Our mission is without precedent in the alliance's history. We're going to go deep into Grand Alliance territory and hitting a Smokowcy nesting area."

The silence that followed was complete and total amongst everyone present. It was, after all, one thing to go after a quartet of Dragonkin with four squads of slayers. It was quite another to purposely try to sneak into their nesting areas and kill them there.

James summed up the feelings of Lillian's squad succinctly when he commented, "shit."


	10. Chapter 9: The Nesting Grounds

**Chapter 9: The Nesting Grounds**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A Complete History"**

**"The silver-eyed slayers employed by the Alliance of Nations are often misunderstood to be evil or completely amoral by people in Toulouse, the Grand Alliance, or the Kingdom of Breton. However, this is an unfair characterization of the 'slayers', who are compared to the "pure" ex-Organization claymores from Toulouse. The claymores once believed they were fighting on behalf of humanity, and their distaste for killing humans even after the Organization's fall is often contrasted with the way slayers nonchalantly killed enemy soldiers.**

**Slayers should not be regarded as claymores; they were fighting in a global war on behalf of their countries. To slayers, a fight "to save humanity" would have sounded ridiculous. After all, there were humans killing each other on both sides of the global war. Slayers were also employed in a plethora of roles claymores were not: assassins, scouts, bodyguards, covert operatives, spies, elite support troops, and shock troops. Claymores would have been familiar with the slayers' roles as hunters of errant awakened beings and Dragonkin however.**

**One of the largest differences between claymores and slayers was that slayers were not entirely female. Roughly ten to twenty percent of every annual class of slayers was male. This was made possible by using special Yoma that prevented males from experiencing intense sexual pleasure while using Yoma energy. The presence of male slayers also plays into stereotypes; claymores were "pure girls" while female slayers were corrupted by "male temptation". Slayers who later came to power have failed to entirely shake this stereotype of moral impurity.**

**It was inevitable that with the presence of male warriors sex and relationships were going to happen. Until the discovery of partial awakening, both sexes were infertile, both with one another and humans. The high female-to-male ratio in slayer squads meant that conventional relationships were never going to happen. Female slayers' aggressive nature was also a cause, as Katarzyna Romanowa famously said; they were "like men in superhuman female bodies".**

**Ordinarily if a male slayer joined an all-female squad, he could expect to see fights between the commander and upstarts. Once it was determined who was commander, the male warrior was obliged to bed her unless he could prove he was even stronger. In such a case the male commander would then have the pick of the entire squad to bed. Unfortunately for male commanders, playing favorites would set off fights between his favorite(s) and the rest of the squad. To prevent such intra-squad problems, many male commanders would sleep with every female in their squad.**

**The wives of the Alliance of Nations' High Command were appalled by such promiscuity. This outrage was further increased when they were informed that female commanders often defused male warriors' rivalries for their attention via the same method. A few commanders, Wenceslaus being the most prominent example, avoided this problem by refusing to sleep with any of their subordinates. This wasn't a perfect solution, as a squad of sexually frustrated females could be, in Wenceslaus' words, "an especially aggravating situation".**

**Slayers, it must be remembered, regarded sex as a pleasant distraction. Long-term relationships for them were difficult to form: they averaged 2-3 years life expectancy in the field, they were frequently transferred between squads, and they were forbidden from marrying until…"**

* * *

"Look James, we're going to be on a year-long journey," the shorter, regal Princess Bastia stated. "If Kasia's refusing to sleep with you, there's a burlesque hall I know where you could take care of your needs."

It had been a few months since the four squads under Katarzyna Yushchenko's command had left the city of Pradesh. Kasia had seemed the most relieved, as she wanted to be away from Viceroy Bahadur, who believed her a reincarnation of his late wife. In the meantime the females of Lillian's squad were changing in ways that James had found hugely distracting.

Kasia had filled out a bit all around, no longer looking quite as lanky. Bastia had hit her growth spurt in the last few months. She was now a rival for Lillian's previously unchallenged claim as the most beautiful slayer James had ever seen. Bastia had a regal face, her shorter height giving her a well-proportioned body, and had her golden blond hair rolled up in a gorgeous, ornate bun. Lillian had gained a little weight, but it had been in all the right areas.

It made for mouth-watering eye candy, but of course he couldn't act on his urges to sleep with any of them. Lillian was already involved with both Ichiro and Rafael, so attempting to sleep with her would set off a two-on-one fight. He knew better than to try to sleep with Bastia, who despite her adult looks was only thirteen. She was also a princess, and he was not about to find out whether her parents were protecting her "virtue". Kasia had been in a state of shock after Bahadur's advances, and so once again he had spent another frustrating year waiting for her to gain a more physical interest in him.

They had just arrived in a city on the edge of the Maghrebi Desert; Najaf. Despite the supposed conservative morals of its residents, there were plenty of whorehouses and burlesque halls throughout the dusty city. He had asked Bastia, who was a well-educated princess, if it would be morally okay to visit a burlesque hall if Kasia was unwilling to bed him. Surprisingly Bastia had no problems with his question.

"If you're going to go have a good time you had better do it soon. We leave on our mission tonight," Bastia said.

She was wearing desert warrior clothing, with white silk tights, a loose white cotton shirt, and a mere set of steel gauntlets for armor. He was wearing a similar outfit, only he had looser white cotton trousers over his legs.

James blinked in disbelief at Bastia's response, "Are you sure Your Highness?"

"James, you're not in a relationship with Kasia," Bastia stated, at which he flinched. "You would not be cheating on her, and we're going on a dangerous mission. You might not be alive in a year, so why not enjoy yourself?"

He set out; not entirely without feeling he was endangering his soul yet again, to visit a nearby burlesque hall. The hall's madam was surprised to see him but eagerly accepted his money. He requested someone special: a brown-skinned girl with long, wavy hair. They found a satisfactory, big-breasted girl who fit the bill, although she was much shorter than Kasia. The girl had been afraid of him, but her vague resemblance to Kasia had turned him rather tender.

She had disrobed after he had convinced her he would not kill her. He took her almost immediately, and soon they were both panting from the efforts. Of course, given how sex-starved he had been for three years, once was not enough. He had intercourse with the delectable girl a further four times. He left the burlesque hall rather satisfied until he noticed who was sitting outside the hall; an impatient Kasia.

Kasia, wearing much the same desert clothing of Bastia, turned upon hearing his footsteps. James felt his smile vanish as Kasia looked over and innocently asked, "James, what in the world are you doing here?"

"Well," James stammered, unsure how to answer, "why are you here Kasia?"

"Bastia said you wanted me to meet you here," Kasia stated.

A dreaded cat-call came from behind him, "Mister Havel, come back anytime! I'll give you an even better time when you come back!"

James turned ashen as he saw the brown-skinned Fatima behind him. She was wearing the outfit of a belly dancer, with a gaudy, bead-lined, split skirt, and wore a sheer, glitzy fabric over her shapely chest that left little to the imagination. James turned to see Kasia's smile vanish as her eyes took in Fatima's provocative gesturing.

Kasia didn't say anything, but instead she tore off at a quick walking pace back towards their camp outside Najaf. He rushed after her, frantically running ahead of her.

"Kasia, please," he pleaded.

Kasia didn't even look him in the eyes but just walked right around him. He rushed to walk alongside her as she stared straight ahead.

"Kasia, I swear, I only—"

"You're a boor just like Bastia said," Kasia snapped, ending her silence but not even glancing at him. "For a moment there I thought we could work as a couple, but then you pull this on me."

James was left speechless as he stopped and Kasia kept walking. Kasia soon turned the corner and was out of sight. He was left alone and shocked for several minutes, his mind going numb. He turned when he heard some female laughter.

"Oh my goodness, I would give anything to see the look on your face again when that whore gestured at you with Kasia nearby," Bastia laughed, emerging from an alleyway.

James should have felt incredible anger at the double game Bastia had just played with him. Instead he could not shake a horrible, creeping depression he had just ruined whatever chances of being Kasia's man he had.

James directed what anger he could at Bastia, "What the hell did I ever do to you to deserve your backstabbing?"

Bastia laughed, "I'm not concerned with your feelings. Anyone with a mind more cultured than yours can see that someone pure like Kasia is destined for a greater man than a boorish idiot like you."

James suddenly noticed Rima running around the corner and prepared for the double onslaught of disapproval with a resigned sigh. Rima surprised him however.

"Bastia," Rima thundered, "you imperious little bitch! I know it was your doing!"

Bastia acted unconcerned at Rima's impolite address, "I merely informed Kasia that James wanted to meet her somewhere."

Rima's answer was to slap Bastia with the back of her hand, which astounded James, as no one, not even Commander Katarzyna, had dared to even touch the warrior princess.

"You told James to go to a burlesque hall, screw a prostitute, and then told Kasia to meet him just outside it," Rima snarled. "She's bawling her eyes out back in camp because of your cruelty!"

"You're going to regret slapping me," Bastia silkily hissed.

"Oh I don't think I will," Rima snarled. "You want to go, I'm ready any time you asshole. Anyone who makes Kasia that upset is well worth beating the crap out of."

James was left gaping at the sheer foul language Rima was unleashing upon Bastia. Bastia however took it calmly and merely unsheathed her massive sword as Rima did likewise. The girls shifted into battle positions when over two dozen silver-eyed warriors jumped over the nearest houses and into the street around Rima and Bastia.

Lillian, Ichiro, Rafael, Katherine, and Nana rushed in and grabbed Rima. Bastia was surprisingly grabbed by Commander Katarzyna.

"That's far enough girls. I can't have such promising warriors fighting when we're about to cross the Maghrebi Desert," the gray-haired Katarzyna lectured.

* * *

James felt a prod and suddenly woke up from the dream. He found his superior officer, the disciplinarian, brown-skinned Katja Tymoshenko, prodding him awake. Katja was the commanding officer of the Imperial Romanow Family's bodyguards, the Silver Guard.

"Lieutenant Commander," Katja quietly hissed, "it's your shift to watch over the meeting."

"Understood ma'am," he acknowledged.

He was seated upon a large sofa alongside dozens of other dozing Silver Guards in their full armor. Since the attempt on Kasia's life and the subsequent invasion by the Grand Alliance, security at Praha Palace had increased exponentially. The two hundred members of the Silver Guard, having nearly failed the imperial family, were now on constant duty. While half of the force guarded the family, the remainder rested nearby, weapons at the ready.

James was just outside the new imperial command hall, where he had once observed as Kasia had received Countess Dietrich Tuluzy. Tymoshenko backed up a few spaces to let him stand. He yawned and observed the candle-lit hall was a buzz of activity, military staff members, servants, courtiers, bureaucrats, and even some silver-eyed aristocrats walking past.

With a quick stretch, he stood up as Tymoshenko made a motion towards the grand bronze doors to the throne room. He quickly woke up his shift of Silver Guards, everyone having slept in their armor to protect a crucial military meeting. James waited while Commander Tymoshenko opened a bronze door, stuck her head inside, and then quickly talked to someone inside. She turned back and waved for him to enter.

He passed by Tymoshenko and walked through the door. Inside he found the hall lit by its three immense silver chandeliers far above. Each was the size of a small house, made of silver, and adorned by hundreds of burning candles. They illuminated the great hall, which stretched far above, its stained glass windows barely illuminated by the candles. Marble columns stretched down from the domed roof to the red, green, white, and black-patterned marble floor below.

It was in the center of that floor, gathered around a sizeable table, that James saw the individuals he was supposed to protect. Crown Princess Rima, now in command of the Romanow Empire in the empress' absence, sat at the head of the table. She was wearing a grand, triangular hat adorned with numerous blue sapphires, red rubies, green emeralds, white diamonds, white and black pearls, and gold stitching. Her black silk, cotton and gold-embroidered dress was only slightly less than overwhelming on the eyes.

Seated to Rima's right was the scar-faced, heavily built Duke Wenceslaus. Much like his rival Sergei, seated opposite, Wenceslaus was wearing dark gray trousers, long brown boots, and a fine black-with-gold lined cotton jacket. Sergei had his flowing blond hair pinned in back, while Wenceslaus had his cut short except for his bangs. They were keeping a wary eye on each other as they listened in to the war meeting.

"Duke Djugashvili," the Crown Princess said. "You will take command of the Reserve Army and fight a delaying action until more reinforcements arrive here."

Sergei objected, "Your Imperial Highness, while I may be a competent commander, the Reserve Army has a mere three hundred thousand men."

"I'm asking you to delay the bastards, not to get yourselves killed," Rima snapped.

A gray-haired man sitting opposite Rima on the long table interrupted, "Your Imperial Highness, Duke Djugashvili is speaking merely of the difficulties of delaying such a large army with a much inferior force."

James recognized the man, who was wearing full plate armor and a fine black cloak, as the Imperial Minister of War, Poniatowski.

Poniatowski continued to lecture, "Crown Princess, we are facing an invasion by a one million man army, the largest ever assembled in world history. On top of that they have a full thousand Smokowcy with them and are being led by three of the Grand Alliance's emperors, not to mention the Vice Chieftain of the Drachenstamm himself."

Rima grew aggravated, "Goddamn you Poniatowski, it may be the largest in world history, but it's not invincible. If we can—"

"Crown Princess, I realize you are absolutely confident in 'the six', including yourself, but the six strongest of your kind will make little difference against a thousand Smokowcy," Poniatowski sighed. "We should consider suing for peace now while we have a stronger position."

Princess Bastia, seated to Wenceslaus' right, hissed, "I did not help overthrow the Alliance of Nations' High Command for us to give up on our Cesarzowa now and lose the Global War. We will have the second-largest army assembled in history, a full six hundred thousand men and thirty-five hundred slayers, ready for battle in four weeks. I think our chances are far better than you imagine Poniatowski."

Rima and Bastia were stubborn like always, which James appreciated and feared now that the greatest army in history was now pushing its way deeper into the Romanow Empire. The truth of the matter was there was only one individual in Praha he trusted to win the coming battle, and she had been put into a deep coma by the assassination attempt: Kasia.

Rima stood up, "We are not going to surrender, not now, not ever! Djugashvili, you will fight the delaying action or you will be stripped of your rank. Duke Wenceslaus and Duchesses Indira and Minhe will lead warrior battalions. Overall operational command will be yours Poniatowski, but I had better see some better plans than this unacceptable plan to surrender."

There were others at the table James noticed as he stood stiffly at attention mere meters behind the Crown Princess. Poniatowski had referred to 'the six', or the six warriors stronger than the empress. Rima and Bastia belonged to the group, helping to ensure the Imperial Romanow Family's hold on power following the coup. Wenceslaus and Sergei belonged to it as well. The final two members of the group were Indira and Minhe Choung Park, both of whom were seated to Sergei Djugashvili's left.

Indira was easily the shortest of 'the six', and had her hair split almost comically into two side ponytails, not unlike the haircut of the unconscious Dietrich Tuluzy. Indira, unlike Dietrich, had a lovely brown skin, not unlike Kasia's, although Indira was of Bengali descent. Minhe Choung Park was a bit taller, and had ridiculously long blond bangs. Minhe also had a braided ponytail of waist-length, and her Siyamese descent was obvious to the eye, as she had narrower eyes, a gentler nose, and paler skin than the half-Maghrebi, half Siyamese Rima.

Indira and Minhe were both wearing the armor of a silver-eyed slayer in combination with black and gold-embroidered capes. It was a flashy and distinctive look, and their armor would have made him worry ordinarily, but they were both unarmed and Rima was most definitely still carrying her immense claymore.

Abruptly a man in an Imperial Guardsman's black uniform walked into the room. James and nearly a dozen Silver Guards reacted instantly, converging upon the handsome man with great speed.

James eyed the man as he stopped respectfully, "We're in the midst of a top-secret war meeting Colonel Tusk. You do not have the clearance to—"

"It's about Her Imperial Highness, Princess Kasia's condition," Tusk gasped, his chest heaving as if he had just run to the meeting. "Commander Tymoshenko said I could come in."

"Havel, if it's about my sister's condition then let him report," Rima's voice commanded.

"Of course Your Imperial Highness," James acknowledged, stepping aside.

Tusk hurriedly walked forward and made a deep bow from the waist, "I have some good news Crown Princess. Princess Kasia's condition is beginning to improve under Alevtina's treatment. Alevtina believes she might be able to awaken the princess in three weeks, a full week before the enemy army is on track to arrive outside Praha."

Rima looked jubilant, "That is fantastic news. If Kasia can be given command then—"

Tusk surprisingly cut off his Crown Princess, "Alevtina regrets to say however that Princess Kasia, if she survives, will be in no condition to command anything for weeks. She will need to rehabilitate her body and mind to make up for her loss of conditioning while in the coma."

Sergei made a slight expression and then his face was expressionless. James curled his lip; he could have sworn he had just seen Sergei flash a grin…

* * *

She was Dietrich, or was it Kasia? She couldn't figure out which anymore, as she was trapped in the memories of the past. They seemed to be going on for months, possibly even years. It was a mind-numbing experience, and one that was confusing her with each passing experience. She felt the light and sounds of a new memory pressing into her mind.

Moments later she found herself yet again in her body: that of a tall, brown-skinned, long wavy blond-haired warrior named Kasia. Kasia blinked in the face of intense light from the sun just beginning to emerge at dawn. She was in the midst of a huge desert full of sand dunes.

Some four dozen silver-eyed warriors were around, each quickly walking towards the shelter of caves in some rocky outcroppings not far away.

"Come on Kasia," a gray-haired female slayer said. "We've got to get into the caves before that blazing hot sun gets too far overhead."

"Right, coming Commander Yushchenko," Kasia sighed, smiling.

Commander Yushchenko rolled her eyes at Kasia as they walked into a cave, "Kasia, how many times must I insist that you call me Katarzyna?"

"Well," Kasia stammered.

"We've been going through the largest desert in the world for a year together Kasia," Katarzyna stated, "you can let down that guard you've been holding up around everyone since Pradesh."

Kasia stuttered as Rima started a fire nearby, "I… I have not been—"

"Kasia, you've been keeping everyone at a distance, including your sister," Katarzyna pointed out while reassuringly rubbing Kasia's shoulders, "Kasia, I think it would do you some good if you got coupled with James."

Kasia exploded, "I will eat excrement before I get together with that aggravating, sick man! He visited a house of exploitation, of slavery, of terrible sin and vice. What kind of woman would I be if I rewarded him for his behavior? You know what they do at prostitution houses? They enlist under-age girls and boys and force them to have sex! By going there James was endorsing that entire evil system of sexual slavery."

Katarzyna closed her eyes and sighed, "Kasia, you have to let one act of bad judgment go. James has apologized every day of this expedition; why can't you forgive him?"

Kasia snapped, "Why is my private life your concern?"

Katarzyna put a hand to her short forehead, "Kasia, Commander Lillian and your entire squad have requested that I reconcile you two."

"Why the hell did Lillian have to stick her—"

Katarzyna interjected, "The tensions between you two have put the entire squad on edge, and we're a mere three days from reaching the nesting area. Can you at least bury your anger towards him before we're all risking our lives?"

"If I forgive him, I will be condoning one of the most evil institutions mankind has yet devised to satisfy the perverted tastes of men and women the world over," Kasia reasoned, "I might as well have condoned him bedding my mother!"

Rima, who had been listening in from a distance, countered, "Oh come on Kasia, I might not like James that much, but he was not—"

"In a different time he might have bedded my mother when she was forced into prostitution," Kasia snapped. "I cannot forgive such a heinous—"

"Kasia, would you quit hyperventilating," Rima snapped. "The only reason you're behaving like a drama queen is because you like him and his actions were a severe disappointment. You should know mom had a choice in employment Kasia. She could've been a maid, a cook, or a prostitute. She became a prostitute because it paid well and she wanted us to go to school."

Kasia whimpered, "You're lying."

Rima leaned in and looked into Kasia's eyes, both of which were moist, "No, I'm not lying. I tried telling you years ago but you wouldn't listen."

"I want to be left alone for awhile," Kasia cried.

Rima and Katarzyna respectfully gave her space to collect her thoughts as the day passed. Kasia found herself see-sawing between forgiving James and maintaining her current anger at him. Ultimately, as the safety of night finally came and they moved out, she finally made a very difficult decision.

* * *

Kasia gulped as she approached James; it was morning on the day they were going to approach the Smokowcy nesting area. The white-haired James was lying atop a rocky outcropping looking down into the mountainous rock valley below. Kasia heard some distant rumbling and quickly got down. She noticed as she crawled forward to the cliff-edge that James was observing something in a small, bronze telescope.

"James, I wanted to tell you something," she whispered.

"Kasia, now's not the time, I've just spotted the first Smok on this trip," James stated.

Kasia momentarily forgot why she had crawled besides James.

She gasped, "What? Where is it?"

James handed her the telescope. She looked into it at the rocky valley below, which was bordered on all sides by small mountains. The telescope showed the desert terrain giving way to a merely arid terrain. On the sides of the mountains were countless burned out trees and more alarmingly steaming vents. They were clearly visible under the partly cloudy sky.

"The Smok is further down, near the top of the pass," James said.

Kasia adjusted her sights, noticing geysers, fumaroles, mudpots, and even felt a small earthquake. The valley was clearly volcanic, the stone around being mostly dark and jagged in nature. Combined with the small shrubs, cacti, and the countless dead trees, the valley gave off an almost hellish impression. Kasia adjusted the telescope's view down towards the top of the pass between the twin jagged peaks at the valley's end.

"He's right past that big rock," James instructed.

Kasia saw what seemed like a small rock. It was of an oval shape, although with numerous jagged points throughout its surface. Just above the rock, on the hill above, Kasia saw the seemingly puny Smok. It had some familiar features: a big, oblong head with big teeth, a face that looked part monster and almost part human. Its body was long, with jagged spikes topping its long tail, its back being protected by fin-like spikes, and its large arms were armed with massive hands tipped with three lethal clawed fingers each. Its legs were built like that of a dinosaur of legend, and even through a telescope it looked large in comparison to the plants around it. It was also, unlike the mottled red-brown of Dragonkin Kasia had seen before, a shocking, brilliant white.

Kasia inhaled, "Why is it white and not reddish brown?"

"Because it's a breeding female," Katarzyna's voice interrupted.

Kasia turned in surprise to find the four commanders standing behind her and observing.

Kasia hissed in alarm, "What are you doing, get down or you'll be seen!"

Katarzyna was still wearing her desert clothes, with a single pair of steel gauntlets, tight white silk pants, cotton-topped, short adventure boots, and a white cotton tunic as she stood observing with great nonchalance.

Katarzyna smiled at her, "Relax Kasia, you don't have to worry. Dragonkin are not known for their good eyesight at distance. If the wind changed suddenly and we were suddenly upwind, then I might be worried. We have a distinctive scent, and Dragonkin are rumored to have an even better sense of smell than Bloodhounds. Thankfully we're downwind here."

Besides Katarzyna was Kasia's equally tall stepsister, Rima, who was also a squad commander. There was Kasia's squad commander, the shorter but more gorgeous, strawberry-blond, long, curly-haired Lillian. Most surprisingly, standing to Lillian's left, was regal Bastia.

Kasia, puzzled, asked, "Where is Commander Gonzalez? Is Leon alright?"

"Leon has agreed to relieve himself of command and step aside for Bastia to take command," Katarzyna stated. "Although I did have one condition; Princess, I believe you have two people to apologize to for your actions."

Bastia, who looked far older than her fourteen years, stepped forward with uncharacteristic sheepishness, "Kasia, James, I'm sorry about setting up the whole prostitution incident back in Najaf. It was all my doing."

Kasia yelled, "You did what?"

James rushed over and cupped her mouth with his hand, "Oh my god Kasia, do you realize where the hell we are?"

Kasia was breathing hard, her adrenaline pumping both from anger and from her realization that the yell was echoing in the hills behind the commanders. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath as Rima rushed forward to observe the lone Dragonkin's reaction.

Rima, looking through James' bronze telescope, sighed in relief, "Oh thank goodness, I don't think she heard that."

Katarzyna was scowling at Kasia, "Kasia, that burning intensity of yours nearly cost us the mission. Bastia was apologizing; there's no need to yell at either Bastia or James. It's over with, they've both apologized, and I'm sure it will never happen again. I want you to let it go," Katarzyna instructed.

Kasia noticed expectant and exasperated looks all around and sighed, "Oh alright, I was going to forgive James anyways. I just want to know why you did it Bastia."

Bastia looked as if she wanted to be anywhere else, "I didn't like James being around you so I told him to do the one thing I knew would upset you."

"I wouldn't be looking for immediate forgiveness Your Highness," Kasia said unsympathetically. "I'm sure you can earn my forgiveness as much as James did."

Katarzyna smiled in relief, "Well, that's good enough for me. Alright, we've got a valley to cross and a mountain to climb before we're in the nesting area."

There was not much talking, as the four dozen slayers clambered down the dangerous slopes with care into the valley below. They shielded themselves from view behind large rocks as they snuck across from one side to the other. Kasia was optimistic of their chances until she saw the sheer rock face they would have to climb.

Kasia put a hand to her face, "Please tell me we're not going to climb that Commander."

Katarzyna smacked her on the back, laughing, "Where would the fun be without adding a fifty meter high cliff to the list of things you've conquered? You've already passed through two thousand kilometers of supposedly impassable desert. Not to mention we were down to our last camel by the time we got here. Alright, Rafael, Ichiro, bring up our rock-climbing gear."

Minutes later, Kasia found herself suspended on a line suspended from the top of the cliff. Far above she could hear Lillian urging her on.

"Come on Kasia, quit dangling and get your feet back on the cliff," Lillian commanded.

Kasia slammed a spiked heel of her rock-climbing boots into the cliff and heaved a sigh of relief. She didn't dare look down as she used her rock-climbing picks and boots to push higher. Eventually she reached the top, where Lillian helped to hoist her over the ledge.

Lillian smiled, "What's this, my second-in-command is more afraid of heights than Dragonkin?"

"I don't care if I am," Kasia gasped, "it looks like we've got a long way to go until we're over the top."

It took them over a day to top the peak, which was topped by just a bit of snow and blasted by an unforgiving wind. The other side proved a surprise, as they soon found themselves surrounded by small fir trees as they descended. In fact, as they descended, they found the area was lush, and Kasia noticed many plants and animals throughout the area. Katarzyna was leading them forward in hushed silence now.

They finally reached a bare hilltop when Katarzyna dropped down. They followed her lead and crawled forward. The view from over a small cliff was spectacular. A large, burbling valley full of geysers, steaming fumaroles, mud pots, and steam vents came into view. Surrounding the valley's meadow and stream was a thick forest of towering fir trees. It was the dozens of small Dragonkin walking around at the valley's far end that caught Kasia's attention.

She crawled up alongside Commander Yushchenko and Rima.

Kasia queried, "Are… are those juvenile Smokowcy?"

"Indeed they are," Katarzyna whispered back. "The High Command ordered this mission because the draconic tribe believed their nesting areas impossible to reach. That bit of wisdom is going to fall today, as will every juvenile and Königin Drachen we can kill."

Kasia looked questioningly at Katarzyna, "Königin Drachen?"

Katarzyna whispered, "Smokowcy have very few females. There are roughly fifty males per every female, so they are treated not unlike ant queens; they're the most treasured members of the draconic race. They reproduce only with the strongest, smartest, and most fit males. They lay eggs constantly, so if we kill one, we're really killing off the equivalent of dozens or more. Would you like the honor of killing that juvenile queen Dragonkin, Kasia?"

Kasia looked over to see a small, white-skinned female, who differed from the adult queen Dragonkin they'd seen earlier in both scale and a lack of protective back spikes. The little queen was playing with a bunch of males, all of whom seemed to be following her lead.

Suddenly Kasia noticed a shift in the wind, and moments later the not-so-distant Dragonkin juveniles began sniffing the wind. Several began curiously walking towards where the four squads were hiding, although their outcropping was well above the juveniles' heads.

"We've been noticed," Katarzyna noted. "Thankfully for us none of those juveniles has any clue what a slayer smells like."

There was a pair of roars, and abruptly a pair of massive queen Smokowcy trotted into the clearing and uttered a harsh bunch of lines at their young. Kasia noticed one large difference besides coloration from the males as they sniffed the air: their tails were not tipped with impaling spikes.

"However, I don't think the old girls are so naïve," Katarzyna commented. "Lillian, you will take your squad and kill that juvenile queen. Rima, your squad will take on the adult queen on the right, mine will take the other, and Bastia, have your squad kill as many juveniles as possible."

Lillian objected, "This is dishonorable."

"Warfare is not about honor, Lillian. What matters is who wins, now let's go," Katarzyna snapped.

Kasia followed the commanders and jumped down the hill and into the valley. The juveniles seemed shocked at the appearance of four dozen slayers, as were their mothers. The massive, four-story tall queen Smokowcy hesitated, which was not typical in combat-hardened male Smokowcy.

"Attack!" Katarzyna shouted.

The four squads raced ahead as the two adult queens rushed to protect the fleeing juveniles, all of whom were at least one fourth their size or smaller. The valley echoed with the tremendous crush of Dragonkin feet as the slayers rushed in. Kasia noticed the little queen Smok had just run past the right-most big queen Dragonkin. Kasia followed Lillian as they diverged out towards the valley's forest edge.

The big female was soon attacked by Rima's squad. Given the queen Dragonkin's massive size, it looked to Kasia as if Rima and her squad were having trouble landing mortal blows. There was little time to observe Rima's fight, as Lillian ran past at great speed. Kasia followed, and noticed Lillian make a great leap off a small ledge. Lillian's jump carried her up and onto the back of a juvenile male without spikes that had been running on the valley's floor below them.

The male made a panicked squeal as Lillian impaled her blade into the one-story tall creature. He tried to toss her off when Kasia's comrades Rafael and Ichiro slashed the back of the Dragonkin's legs. The male toppled to the ground, and his struggles were soon cut short by Kasia's slashing through the spine. She spotted the juvenile queen not far away running at a good speed down the geyser and steaming vent-filled forest valley. The female was running towards the valley's end, with the valley's floor ascending, its floor growing narrower and the slopes to either side more steep.

Kasia pointed and shouted, "James, Commander O'Malley, there's our target!"

Lillian and Kasia rushed after the juvenile with the rest of the squad doing their best to keep up. The small queen continued towards the valley's end, all the while looking back and squealing in terror. It seemed odd that Dragonkin felt fear of any kind, but these were not exactly of fighting age.

Abruptly there came a much steeper slope at the valley's end, the little queen frantically kicking and clawing her way up the slope. Kasia did her best to follow, although it was difficult to maintain the pursuit with their target kicking loose countless man-sized boulders as she climbed. Suddenly the little queen Smok reached a plateau and scrambled up onto it and out of sight. Kasia was nearly to the plateau's edge, struggling to find footing in the loose volcanic soil and beginning to gasp from breath due to running up a mountain. James reached the plateau's edge first and then suddenly stopped. Kasia could agree with his caution when she saw what they were facing.

The plateau was clearly artificial, the mountain being dug away into the side of the peak. The plateau was covered in patches of mountain grass, and where it met the mountain dozens of enormous tunnels were apparent. From what Kasia remembered of a map of the area, the other side of this peak was the main nesting ground, where the hatchlings and eggs were protected by the cliffs facing the sea. However, getting to that hallowed ground appeared an impossibility for protecting the tunnels was no fewer than five massive queen Smokowcy. The little queen had just rushed past her elders, frantically running right into a tunnel and out of sight.

Lillian and the rest of the squad scrambled over the plateau's edge, gasping, and paused as they got the full measure of the massive opposition facing them. The five queens formed up, a low rumble of threat making apparent their determination to save their young. They may not have been used to a life of fighting, but adult Smokowcy weighed more than fifty tons. In addition, they had lethal, long, sharp claws on both of their large arms, they stood on two legs, allowing them greater mobility, and their long, whip-like tails could break kill or horribly injure slayers.

"Crap," James commented.

"We're outmatched," Kasia noted, "so why aren't they attacking?"

Lillian shifted out to the right side, and the queen guarding that side shifted sideways to match her.

Lillian came to her conclusion, "They're guarding the rest of the nesting grounds. That's fine by me. Let's take out the remaining juveniles who haven't made it up here."

Lillian descended the slope, as did the rest of the squad while warily watching their rear to make sure the adults didn't follow. They followed the noise of screeching Dragonkin back down the valley towards the geyser basin. They were jogging at high speed, spreading out to make sure no Dragonkin could pass them to the safety of the adult queens. Kasia was walking on the banks of the valley's stream when a jolting screech came from only meters away out of a tall bush.

A juvenile Smok barely as tall as her shoulder belted out of the fir forest's underbrush and knocked her over. She scrambled to her feet and was surprised to find Rima already in pursuit. The young male Smok had scarcely run ten meters before Rima made a vicious swing. It fell in a screech of earsplitting proportions onto its side. Rima put its pitiful screeches of pain to an end with a stab through the side of the head.

Lillian walked up and helped Kasia to her feet, then looked upon the dead Smok with disgust.

"I don't care for this at all," Lillian murmured.

"I can still hear you," Rima remarked, pulling her bloodied blade out of the Smok.

"I don't really care if you can," Lillian snapped. "This is like killing little kids and—"

"Oh please," Rima scoffed, flinging the blood off her blade, "you of all of us should know it's better to kill them younger than older, Lillian. The older the Smok, the more lethal it is."

"Those are just rumors, Rima," Lillian countered. "We should concentrate on the mission."

"Bastia's squad is scaring up the remaining juveniles and will drive them towards us. We have but to wait for them. We took care of that queen Smok, but the damn bitch cost us a life. Anyways, I am not just spreading around frickin' rumors, Lillian."

Lillian put her hands on her hips, "All right, then who's your source?"

Rima leaned against a nearby tree, smiling, "Commander Yushchenko. Poniatowski told her they have good evidence that when Smokowcy reach adulthood at age twenty, they're more dangerous than the average Awakened we use against them."

"That's because they're 30 to 50-ton monsters three stories tall," Lillian remarked. "That's not exactly news to my ears."

"That's because you keep interrupting me," Rima snapped. "Anyways, the Allied High Command has good intelligence that shows they keep growing even after they're adults."

Kasia gasped, "You mean they get even bigger than what we've seen?"

"Yes," Rima nodded. "As they get older, their hide gets thicker and harder to penetrate, they grow very slowly to even greater size, and their lethality jumps dramatically. Apparently Poniatowski figured it out after Wenceslaus and Cheung led four squads against a pair of abnormally huge Smokowcy. Wenceslaus and four others survived, and when the alliance sliced open the bones, it found not twenty, but 300 growth year rings in its femur. The larger of the two weighed in at ninety tons."

Lillian scoffed, "A ninety-ton Smok? I might believe sixty, but ninety? It all sounds like a tall tale. I've been in the service for years and the biggest I've ever seen killed was weighed in at fifty-three tons. If they do get that big, why aren't they on the front lines more often?"

"Katarzyna thinks it because they see the war as a sort of sport," Rima explained. "The older Smokowcy tire of it and have earned their time mating with the queens."

Lillian stayed silent for a moment and then asked, "Speaking of Katarzyna, I don't see her, where is she, Rima?"

"The other queen is proving to be a tough one to kill," Rima stated. She's lost two already trying to kill the monster but told us to help here. Did you kill that juvenile queen already?"

Lillian shook her head, "No, she's being guarded up the hill in some caves by six adult queens, along with the nursery that's rumored to exist."

Rima looked up the slope and smirked, "Well, too bad, I'd love to kill some more monsters."

Pixie-haired Katherine rushed up, breathless, "Commanders," Katherine gasped, "there's a juvenile queen coming, being guarded by twenty juvenile males. She's trying to get to the adult queens!"

The two squads were immediately ordered to concentrate in opposition. Kasia could hear and feel the thunder of the juveniles' footsteps before she saw them. They made a dramatic entrance rushing up into the valley by smashing down the small fir trees as they emerged. Behind them was Bastia's squad, attacking the stragglers but mainly working to herd the naïve juveniles straight towards them. Against the juveniles almost two dozen slayers were arrayed in a loose, enveloping crescent shape for the ambush, each of them crouched behind cover.

The juveniles hesitated as they caught their scent, as adults would not, which gave the slayers all the time they needed to charge the group. Kasia broke cover and charged straight into the melee. She first dodged the attacks of two males as she rushed into the confused group of Smokowcy. Kasia cut off the arm of one at the elbow, leaving him whimpering in pain. The other male, nearly twice the size and several tons large, knocked her off her feet with a well-aimed sweep of his un-spiked tail.

She landed on her back, and the juvenile male charged as she sat up. She drew her blade, but she realized in alarm he was not going to give her the time to defend herself. Just as he was about to crush her with his feet, James ran up and delivered a nasty slash to the juvenile. It squawked in surprise, drawing back as the horizontal slash across its side began to bleed.

It roared as Kasia got up and drew her blade. She set her body into a combat stance as the juvenile drew back and roared at a volume far less than that of the adult males she had previously encountered.

James taunted in the draconic tongue, "Ist das alles? Meine Großmutter war noch erschreckender als Sie!"

This taunt did not seem to sit well with the young male Smok. He immediately charged at James while roaring his fury. James dodged underneath the male Dragonkin's slashes, rolling to one side. Kasia took full advantage of the distracted Dragonkin ignoring her and darted in. She delivered a vicious vertical slash across the Dragonkin's face.

He roared in pain as her sword cut into his flesh and slashed through his orange right eye. The juvenile backed off, clutching at his bloodied head with his right arm. Kasia was readying to finish him off when a slayer nearby screamed out in pain.

The dark-skinned Nana, one of Kasia's comrades, had fallen to the ground clutching at the bloody stump of her left arm. A particularly large juvenile Dragonkin had bitten off the rest, and with relish he inclined his head and swallowed it in triumph.

Kasia started running to save Nana, who was desperately running towards the safety of Bastia and Bastia's dark-skinned former commander, Leon Gonzalez. Kasia ducked under the sweeping tail of one male as the engagment turned into a maelstrom of flying dirt, dust, limbs, blood and screams. She jumped over one juvenile with ease only to see Nana's attacker knock her down.

The Dragonkin then smashed its large, three-toed foot down upon her. Nana cried out, a scream at which Kasia's stomach churned. Not satisfied with partly crushing Nana underneath him, the Dragonkin slashed down with its other foot and beheaded Nana. Kasia felt a terrible fury come upon her as she closed the distance on the triumphantly roaring one-story tall Smok.

She made a jump and landed on the Smok's back and secured herself upon it by impaling her sword into him. He roared in alarm as she held on for dear life. He began to buck like a bronco, attempting to throw her off as her abused body was whipped up and down. Abruptly his resistance was ended, and Kasia found herself flung off as he toppled to the ground.

She landed like a cat, crouched, breathing hard. James, ran up, gasping, "Kasia, grab your sword, the juvenile queen's making a run for it!"

Kasia turned to see a story-and-a-half tall, brilliant white Dragonkin rushing past escorted by a pair of large juvenile males. She pulled her sword out of the juvenile James had felled and sprinted after the juvenile queen. Bastia and Leon attempted to cut the queen's escape to safety off. One male engaged Leon as the queen kept moving. The other attempted to slay Bastia.

The warrior princess cut off one of his long clawed fingers for his efforts. He roared in pain and shied from Bastia's blade. Bastia turned to attack the juvenile queen as she passed, but the male whipped his tail around. He knocked Bastia into the air, and with a hard thud, she landed mere meters away from a scalding hot steam vent.

James shouted, "Kasia, I'll save Bastia, go after the queen!"

Kasia and James diverged, with James jumping atop Bastia's opponent in the nick of time. Kasia turned away from this and increased her pace as she closed the distance on the juvenile queen. Her lungs felt as if they were burning and would collapse at any moment as she followed the young queen up the ever steeper mountain valley. Despite this, Kasia knew she had no choice but to push herself to the brink. The juvenile was scrambling with the desperation of a cornered beast, attempting to haul itself up to the plateau and the safety of the adults.

The queen had almost reached the plateau and the safety of the six adult females when Kasia jumped in desperation. She did not so much land as impale her sword into the multi-ton creature and hang on for dear life. The female had just reached the top of the slope, coming into full view of the adult queen Smokowcy when she stumbled.

Kasia and her sword were dislodged. Kasia landed in a daze beside the juvenile queen, which was crying out in pain.

Kasia heard Rima's voice taunt, "That, you monster, is why you can't outrun a slayer. Go ahead and try to run; Lillian and I just slashed the backs of both your legs."

Kasia blinked open her eyes to see Rima and Lillian approach the head of the fallen but alive female Smok. Kasia was emerging from her daze and standing up when a quartet of roars rang out. The four fully-grown queen Smokowcy appeared to not take kindly to Rima and Lillian trying to finish off the juvenile queen. The adults charged away from the tunnels and towards the three slayers, their immense bodies shaking the ground.

Rima and Lillian froze up for but a moment as Rima exclaimed, "fuck!"

Rima and Lillian jumped backwards and scrambled down the slope behind the wounded juvenile queen. Kasia abruptly realized as the ground shook and the roars deafened her that she was the only one left to target. She scrambled to dodge the slashes of two tall queen Smokowcy. She ran towards the slope, then tripped on a rock and unceremoniously fell down the slope.

Kasia hit the slope's bottom and felt her left ankle ache. She painfully got up with Rima and Lillian's help, gasping for breath. A quartet of defiant roars from a few hundred meters away concentrated her attention. She turned to see the four adult female Smokowcy forming a line at the top of the slope.

"Well so much for that," Lillian gasped, her chest heaving from her exertions.

Kasia noticed the three of them were caked in wet and dry sweat, but thankfully it appeared the battle with the twenty juvenile males Smokowcy was over. All around the male Smokowcy lay dead, horrifically wounded, or possibly unconscious. Their limbs, bodies and countless smashed trees littered the forest valley meadow as steam vents continued churning all around as if nothing had happened.

"They're not attacking," Lillian noted. "Let's back off a bit and make certain of our casualties."

The three squads, which had numbered thirty-six strong at the day's beginning, had seen their numbers thinned considerably. Kasia noticed she and Lillian were speckled with red Dragonkin's blood as they walked through the carnage's results. Kasia found one slayer nearly unconscious from blood loss and waved James over to help. The pale girl, looking barely thirteen, had lost her right arm and the legs below the knee.

Kasia turned away in distress and then promptly bumped into Lillian.

"Oww," Kasia muttered, holding her right hand to her head.

Lillian was tearing up; looking down at all that remained of Nana's maimed body. Kasia could only look once at the last expression upon Nana's decapitated head before turning away in disquiet and terrible sadness.

Rima strode up, grinning, "Today is a great day. We killed more of those horrible monsters today than have ever been killed in a single day of this war's history. Just look at—"

Lillian hissed, "How can it be a great day when your squad lost more people than anyone else's?"

Rima grin vanished immediately, her face soon turning ashen when she saw the girl James was helping heal.

"Oh no, Alberta," Rima gasped, rushing over to clutch the crying, injured warrior's hand.

James head snapped up abruptly and he ran over, having only helped re-grow both of the grimacing Alberta's legs.

"Commander Katarzyna's running this way; she's got three subordinates left and her yoki is really stressed out," James told them.

Bastia walked up, gasping for breath, with her well-built second-in-command, Leon Gonzalez, by her side. He was almost James height, but Kasia noticed Leon had a more muscular frame, although he didn't quite resemble a body builder. His dark-skinned face was not unhandsome, and he had his blond hair arranged into braided "corn-rows".

Gonzalez commented in a smooth voice, "Well, that's it then. We meet up with Commander Yushchenko and get—"

His words were stilled by the chilling crescendo of approaching roars in the distance.

Commander Katarzyna emerged, breathing hard, from the far side of the valley and was trailed by her three remaining female subordinates. They were sprinting at full speed, approaching the remaining squads, who seemed surprised at Katarzyna's desperation. Everyone was keeping a wary eye on the four Smokowcy queens observing them from above.

Katarzyna made waving motions at them.

Rima called out, "Commander, did you kill the other Smokowcy queen?"

Katarzyna ran up, pausing for a moment to gain her breath.

"She's dead; only cost me two-thirds of the squad to kill," Katarzyna said ruefully. "We have to get out of here NOW! Come on, follow me!"

Lillian looked back as she ran up to Katarzyna, "Why, what's happened?"

"It seems our attack has displeased the fathers," Katarzyna quipped.

It was at this moment that the ground began to shake, almost as if something unfathomably huge was barreling their way. Kasia followed as Katarzyna resumed running, this time towards a side valley to the left of where the queen Smokowcy stood watching guard. The mountains sloped down in this direction, and it appeared to Kasia it was all downhill.

Lillian yelled as the squad began to jog behind, "How many are you fleeing from?"

Kasia noticed the forest of the entire valley floor behind them was moving, the trees falling, twisting, swaying and being moved about with incredible force. The cacophony of breaking trees surpassed the building crescendo of tremors going through the earth beneath their feet. The squads began sprinting like mad now, knowing they could not hope to defeat the sheer force pursuing them. Kasia chanced a glance back with Lillian as they ran.

The sight made her wish she hadn't, for the entire forest was buckling a mere half kilometer behind them. The large fir trees on the forest's edge were smashed down as a dozen red-brown adult male Smokowcy emerged. A particularly massive male roared in fury upon sighting them and shook the earth as he and his massive fellows began to charge. He was easily twice as big as the pair Kasia, Rima and James had taken on years earlier.

"I take it back," Lillian gasped to Rima, "they do get that big."

"Holy shit," James exclaimed, looking in disbelief at the literal mountain of mass charging towards them.

Kasia and the slayers picked up the pace immediately as they headed downhill, easily keeping clear of the slower Dragonkin. It was the one blessing they had, as the average slayer could keep pace with a light horse. Dragonkin thankfully could only manage a pace similar to that of a human male at top speed. They were however famed for their incredible tracking abilities, as their walking pace was considerably greater than that of silver-eyed warriors'.

The four much reduced squads, which Kasia estimated had taken fifty percent casualties, jumped the increasingly large stream as the ground shook behind them. She even noticed a rock on flat ground was physically bouncing around from the impact tremors of their pursuers. Eventually they came to a fork in the valley and for once Commander Katarzyna scratched her head.

"I know we're supposed to get picked up by the Alliance of Nations' Navy once we reach the ocean, but I can't remember which way it was to it," Katarzyna stated to everyone's general alarm. "Rima, I lost my map of the area during combat, does your scout have hers?"

The situation was made all the more terrifying by the sheer cliffs on all sides; escape by climbing would not be an option.

Rima looked horror-struck, "My scout? Oh no, where's Vitoria?"

Thirteen-year-old Alberta, who was in the midst of re-growing one arm, whimpered, "Commander, Vitoria's dead!"

A roar from behind them reminded them that the pursuit was still very much active. Kasia saw the particularly massive male Smok from earlier several hundred meters away.

"There's no time," Katarzyna snapped, "I think it was the left fork! Come on!"

Kasia was about to follow when Rima looked back and gasped. They were situated furthest to the right and were moving to follow when Kasia saw something fly in their direction. Rima suddenly changed track and tackled Kasia as a massive rock smashed into the sheer rock face behind them. A moment later Kasia felt herself sliding down the steep right fork in the trail with Rima atop her. They landed in a painful heap in the bottom of what appeared to be a dead-end.

There were sheer rock walls on all sides but from where they had come, and if they didn't get back up the slope in time they would surely be killed. Lillian was peering down at them in anguish.

Lillian yelled, "Come on; get up here before he throws another! He's coming!"

Lillian, nearly two hundred meters up and even further away, ducked. A massive rock flew over Lillian's head and smashed into the cliff behind her. Lillian ran off in the opposite direction as Kasia heard the approach of the massive male Dragonkin.

"We're fucked," Rima said, sure that their fate was sealed.

The massive Smok's head came into view, and then moments later so did a pair of his smaller, red-brown male comrades. Their escape was now cut off, and Kasia could feel her heartbeat pounding.

The fork they had fallen down into was a dead end, its only exit back to where the Dragonkin were talking in low, rumbling tones. Worse, the slope back up was steep enough to make dodging past the Dragonkin, now four strong, impossibility. On every other side were cliff faces hundreds of meters tall with no notches to climb.

The massive male nodded in Kasia and Rima's direction and made what sounded like a business-like command, "Tötet sie."

"I never thought we would go out like this," Rima cried, tears flowing from her eyes.

A pair of male Dragonkin began to slowly descend the slope towards them, their expressions grim, and their voices silent. Kasia felt tears coming down as well as they made a final hug. Kasia put her head over Rima's right shoulder as Rima did likewise. She could feel a panicked sweating come over her as their doom came ever closer.

Kasia stared ahead at a dark crevasse in the rocks, "Rima, I have a confession to make. I really do like James, but the only reason I never slept with him is I'm afraid of sex."

Rima sighed, "Will you forgive me for being an ass on your 17th birthday?"

"Of course," Kasia cried, wiping away tears with a hand.

Kasia stared ahead at the dark crevasse in contemplation of her life as the Dragonkin at last reached the bottom of the slope.

"At least I can die by your side," Rima cried. "It's been an honor to be your sister. You want to go out in a blaze of glory or—"

Kasia's eyes noticed in shock that the crevasse appeared as if its bottom was visible and that it might be descending. The first of the Dragonkin was holding back its arm for the killing blow when she decided to chance the crevasse. She grabbed Rima and rushed towards the dark hole in the cliff-face. A tremendous roar of surprise echoed around them as Kasia jumped, with Rima held in one arm, face first into the crevasse.

It turned out to be a slide-like tunnel, and soon they were descending, screaming, at great speed down its smooth surfaces. It was completely pitch black, so every surprise turn, twist, bump, and change in the rate of descent was a terrifying surprise. Rima found it even worse, as she was sliding down sideways atop Kasia's body.

Suddenly, they were dumped unceremoniously in a pile of loose sand. Kasia and Rima took to spitting sand out of their mouths. They found themselves in a light-filled rocky chamber. Its ceiling was dotted with holes, through which the sun's light was falling upon them.

Rima cried in happiness, "We're alive, we're fucking alive!"

There was no harshness in the way Rima had used the profanity Kasia noticed. They soon hugged, crying tears of joy, their chests heaving from the experience they had just endured. Kasia extracted herself from the sand, and then helped pull Rima free. A look around found the chamber had multiple exits. They took the largest exit to the right. They emerged to find themselves in a cave of a sort. Its ceiling was dotted with a few holes, through which reassuring light poured.

It was fairly dry, although Kasia smelled something bizarre.

Kasia asked, "Is it just me Rima, or do you smell the ocean?"

Rima sniffed, "No, I smell it too. Haha! And to think, we thought we were goners! You are the best, most caring sister anyone could ask for!"

Rima kissed Kasia in gratitude on both cheeks, at which Kasia blushed as Rima kept complimenting her. Eventually they moved on and stumbled through a number of tunnels, smiling in gratitude for being alive.

Rima asked, "Do you think they could follow us down here?"

Kasia smiled, "There's no way; that tunnel was far too small for anything but young juveniles, and they'd never risk their young getting injured going down an unknown tunnel."

Rima sprinted forward as Kasia heard the crash of waves. Rima smiled and waved her forward to the edge of a cliff-face.

"It's a sea-cave Kasia," Rima exclaimed, pointing downwards.

Sure enough there was a visible entrance to the sea beyond. At the cave's bottom was a large, calm pool with crystal clear water. A few holes in the cave's ceiling gave the whole place a heavenly, soothing feel as the sun's light lit the brilliant clear blue waters. The cliff they were on the edge of was roughly fifteen meters above the water; a tad too high to safely jump.

"Come on Kasia," Rima laughed, "I bet we can beat Lillian and the others to the fleet."

They rushed through a series of increasingly large chambers, each with a hole at their peak. Kasia, still hobbling a little with a swollen left ankle, was lagging further behind her ever-healthy stepsister. She saw a huge opening in the rock to open sky and ran towards the last chamber. Rima had stopped at the chamber's entrance and held out her arm to bar her way.

Kasia sighed, "Oh come on Rima, what's the matter?"

"This opening, look at how there are large scratches all around its edges," Rima said, a bit of fear creeping into Rima's voice. "It's large enough to have been scratched out by a Smok. Come on, we need to find another way to the sea."

Rima grabbed Kasia and led her back. They took a left towards the sea into an impressive, even larger chamber. It too had a hole at the top, which looked to Kasia as if it might not be as natural as it first appeared. A small, human-sized hole led out onto a rocky outcropping a mere meter above the sea. Kasia cracked a huge smile as she felt the sun's rays falling upon her, felt the sea's comforting scent in her nose, and felt the freedom of the sea's winds upon her face. Kasia sighed in gratitude as she noticed that a quartet of warships upon the horizon was flying the blue and gold-starred standard of the Alliance of Nations.

"Rima, I can see the fleet," Kasia laughed.

Rima however had not followed her onto the rocky outcropping, so Kasia rushed back to the chamber. Rima was standing near a massive pile of straw and tree branches, a mound that was as tall at its edges as Rima was tall, and many times as wide.

"Rima," Kasia whispered to her still stepsister, "what's the matter?"

"We're in a nesting chamber," Rima said quietly. "We've got to get out of here as soon as—"

Rima's speech was cut off by a surprising squeak from something in the nest. Kasia and Rima drew their blades, looking carefully towards the massive entrance as they approached. Rima crested the mound's top first and gasped. Kasia did likewise when she saw what Rima did.

There was a clutch of three massive eggs lying in a mat of straw below them. Each was colored a rich red, except for the center egg, which was a brilliant turquoise blue. The eggs were roughly half their height and bigger across than their torsos. The right-most egg had a crack in it, from which yet another squeak was uttered.

"Oh my god," Kasia muttered. "They're Dragonkin eggs. Rima, do you realize no outsider has ever seen Dragonkin eggs before?"

"Good, we'll get to kill a few more of the bastards," Rima declared.

Kasia objected, "No, no, no, do you realize our opportunity here?"

Rima snapped, "Those bastards killed my family like a bunch of animals."

Kasia raised an eyebrow, patting the eggs for emphasis, "A bunch of un-hatched Dragonkin killed your family?"

"You know what I meant," Rima sighed. "Come on, let's just kill them. They'll only become a threat if we let them live."

A bit of eggshell exploded outwards as a mottled red-brown head that vaguely resembled an adult Dragonkin stuck out. It was busily trying to get out of the eggshell, but not making especially quick progress. Kasia noticed a pile of watermelons nearby and came up with an idea.

She rushed over to the watermelons, grabbed three of them, and lugged them back to an incredulous-looking Rima.

Rima closed her eyes and sighed, "What is it you think you're doing Kasia?"

"They're worth a lot more alive than dead Rima," Kasia stated. "If we could bring them back alive to the Alliance of Nations it'd be a huge feat."

"You want to risk bringing three Dragonkin hatchlings back to—"

Rima's objection was cut off by the male hatchling having at last escaped the clutches of his egg, which he split wide open. The hatchling had a short tail, awkwardly large feet, and an oversize head with vaguely cute big orange eyes. He was licking off the slime from his egg quickly when he glanced up straight at Rima and squeaked.

Rima frowned, "What the hell is it you want to do with this… 'thing'?"

Rima and Kasia were surprised a moment later when the baby male Dragonkin squeaked at Rima again, this time more insistently. Rima took a step back and walked off.

"Alright, fine, you deal with him," Rima growled.

Kasia walked forward with the watermelons, intending to feed the hatchling. It scarcely looked at Kasia despite her gesturing with the food. Instead it scrambled up the side of the nest, and then rolled awkwardly end-over-end to the nest's bottom. A moment later it squeaked again and then awkwardly tried to walk towards Rima.

Rima, never known for her sympathy towards Smokowcy, promptly swatted the Dragonkin away with her right foot, bowling him over.

"Rima," Kasia hissed, "come on, don't do that."

"I don't give a damn if it's a baby," Rima declared, "it's still a monster!"

The baby male hatchling got back onto its feet awkwardly. It eyed Rima again and this time approached with its head low in a submissive stance. It awkwardly walked towards her as Rima eyed the mottled-red hatchling with distaste.

"Quit following me you damn thing," Rima yelled.

Rima was about to kick it before Kasia could stop her when the baby Dragonkin made a series of whimpers. Rima's foot stopped, but her scorn did not.

"Stay there," Rima snapped, "I had better not see you following me again!"

Rima walked towards the hole that led to the sea, but as she did so the baby Smok followed despite the angry threatening, alternatively squeaking and whimpering for attention.

Kasia gasped, "Um, Rima, this is just a wild guess, but I think it imprinted on you."

Rima shouted, "It did what?"

"Well," Kasia sighed as the Dragonkin approached even closer to the annoyed Rima's feet, "birds like ducks and geese will imprint on whatever they see first as their parent. I believe it thinks you are its mother."

"Kasia," Rima hissed, "what have you got me into?"

"Hey, it's your fault for being the first thing it saw. I just—"

The baby Dragonkin was busy erasing any doubts Kasia had about what had happened. It had used the distraction of them talking to approach Rima and had suddenly taken to rubbing its body against Rima's legs while squeaking.

"Goddamit Kasia, my idea of success on this mission wasn't mothering a monster," Rima complained while she grabbed the Dragonkin with her arms and then dumped it back in the nest, "I most certainly didn't sign up for this, and now look at the damn thing, it's—"

Rima's complaints cut off as Kasia heard a second squeak join the first. Kasia hurried over to the nest's top to find the left-most egg had hatched, a baby male Dragonkin eagerly squeaking for Rima's attention as well.

Kasia smirked, "Well, was that my fault as well?"

"Dammit, now I've got two of these things bugging me," Rima loudly complained, "don't just stand there, help me shut them up!"

Kasia took out her sword.

"Woah, I thought you said we weren't killing them," Rima pointed out.

Kasia ignored Rima, dropped a watermelon onto the floor, and promptly sliced it in half. She picked up the split watermelon and handed it to Rima.

Rima complained, "Oh come on, why do I have to feed them too? Look at these horrible things; they're already trying to bend me to their will with all this squeaking and whimpering!"

"If you feed them they'll shut up," Kasia pointed out.

"Yeah, for about one day," Rima countered. "How the hell was it my destiny to be mama to these monsters?"

"Just give them the watermelons," Kasia instructed.

The two Dragonkin hatchlings had once again gotten to the nest's top, whereupon Kasia noticed each was roughly the size of a Labrador retriever. One curled its body around the annoyed Rima's legs while the more recently hatched male clumsily fell and rolled out of the nest. Kasia laughed at the antics going on at Rima's expense.

Rima dropped the watermelon into the nest. The male hatchling curled around her legs hurried over and sniffed in curiosity at the watermelon half. He then looked back at Rima while squeaking.

Rima asked, "Kasia, are you sure these things will eat fruit?"

"Well, someone, probably a Dragonkin, put a whole bunch of watermelons in the nesting chamber," Kasia pointed out, "besides, everyone knows Smokowcy are omnivores. It's why they're much better allies to have than purely carnivorous monsters."

Rima sighed, grabbing half of the watermelon and biting in.

"Well," Rima said after chewing and spitting out the seed, "If they won't eat, I will. Man I am hungry."

Kasia noticed the baby Dragonkin were both observing Rima carefully, and then converged on the other half of the unspoiled watermelon. However, this was not enough to go around, and the two males promptly began biting at one another as they fought over the food.

Rima dragged them apart, "Stop that, the two of you! There's plenty of damn watermelon. Kasia, smash the other ones in the nest."

Kasia smiled, as Rima had already seemingly given in to the hatchlings' expectations. She smashed the other two watermelons in the nest, which were promptly gone down the gullets of the hungry hatchlings.

"I guess we'll need a few more," Rima sighed. "You had better be right about these things being valuable."

Rima and Kasia had smashed another ten watermelons in the nest and watched as they were all eaten when a distant roar reminded them where they were.

"We've got to get out of here," Rima declared. "Ah come on, don't fall asleep on me now!"

The baby male hatchlings, now stuffed full of watermelon, had curled up at Rima's feet in the nest and promptly fallen asleep.

"Kasia, help me carry them," Rima ordered.

Kasia grabbed the more recently hatched male, who proved surprisingly heavy and carried him in her arms. He scarcely opened an eye to see whether Rima was close before falling asleep in Kasia's arms yet again. They then carried both of the males outside.

"Please tell me you've got that flare Kasia," Rima pleaded.

Kasia took a red flare out of her belt, found a match, and struck it. The flare burned red as they waved it at the approaching fleet, a number of familiar yokis seeming to be on board.

Rima stated, "Alright, we take these two to the fleet and—"

They heard a squeak, and they both looked down to find the two males sound asleep on the rocks not far from the flare.

"Oh no, not another," Rima sighed. "I'll go and see to getting it fed."

Kasia saw the fleet make a series of signals saying a landing party would come to pick them up. It was a huge relief until Rima shouted.

"Kasia, get in here!"

Kasia ran back into the nesting chamber and found Rima staring at something in the nest. Kasia clambered to the side of the nest, looked down, and gasped.

* * *

"Well, I have to admit I didn't think they'd survive," Lillian sighed in relief.

James smiled in reply as he hung onto the ship's railing and enjoyed the breeze.

They were atop the wooden deck of the ANS Novgorod, or Alliance of Nations' Ship Novgorod, a substantial galleon with numerous small cannons lining its sides in its lower decks. Three masts stretched far overhead, although the sails weren't unfurled, as they were at anchor. It was a pure, sunny day overhead. There was some melancholy from losing so many slayers in the mission, with Lillian taking it the hardest.

James was not far behind in his depression, feeling he had failed Rima and Kasia and would never get to see them again. It was thus a great joy to see their flare on the shore. A couple of dinghies had been sent out to pick them up. He was watching as Kasia and Rima approached in different dinghies, each having what looked like red-brown dogs seated beside them.

He commented to Lillian, who was still wearing her white desert gear, "Why are Kasia and Rima bringing back a couple of dogs?"

"I have no idea," the curly-haired Lillian murmured, looking just as curious as he was.

"You know Lillian, we did do pretty well considering," James said, trying to kill time until Kasia got back, "we crossed the supposedly impassable, 2000-kilometer wide Maghrebi Desert in a year. We killed two queen Smokowcy and about thirty juvenile males, and even injured a juvenile female all while taking twenty-six casualties. We've never taken anywhere close to one-to-one casualties before fighting Smokowcy!"

"Don't get too used to it Havel," Katarzyna's voice interjected.

Katarzyna, wearing what looked to be a red-and-white kimono, walked up to his left.

James stammered, "Um, Comander Yushchenko, why are you—"

"I made a bargain with the captain of the ship to get us back sooner if I slept with him," Katarzyna admitted. "He wanted me to wear the customary dress of women in his homeland, so I'm obliging him."

James objected, "But Commander…"

Katarzyna reassured, "It's okay, I don't mind. We'll get taken straight to Visegrad this way in about half a year less."

"Oh," was all James managed to Katarzyna's pragmatic approach to lovemaking.

Katarzyna's eyes narrowed as she eyed the dogs in the dinghies. Kasia and Rima were nearly to the side of the galleon when Katarzyna gasped.

"Oh… my god," Katarzyna said, looking awestruck as she stared down at the Romanow sisters. "Those aren't dogs… those are Dragonkin hatchlings!"

Nearly every crewman and slayer in earshot rushed over, and they were soon joined by others who wanted to know what all the commotion was about.

Bastia hurried up holding Leon Gonzalez's hand and asked, "What's going on? I know Kasia and Rima are almost on board, but what's—"

Kasia shouted, "Alright, pull it up!"

A set of sailors tugged in rhythm as James eyes went wide as he saw what squawking thing was being pulled upwards. It was pulled clear of the crowd and then dropped gingerly onto the deck before a shocked-looking Bastia, who tripped as she backpedaled away from it. Kasia and Rima soon came up with two red-brown male Dragonkin hatchlings sound asleep in their arms. They deposited them next to the one everyone was still shocked to see.

James pointed in disbelief at what he was seeing and asked, "Kasia, is that what I think it is?"

Kasia looked down at the squeaking hatchling, which was begging Rima for attention as the crowd gathered around on deck for a better look. The pure white Dragonkin hatchling took the crowd's attention in stride, and eagerly gobbled the fish Rima threw at its feet.

Kasia smiled, "What's the matter James? Never seen a domesticated queen Dragonkin before?"

James snapped awake from the pleasant dream, feeling a prodding hand on his arm. A very familiar face with arched eyebrows, big silver eyes, tan skin, and a lovely feminine chin was a meter away. James jumped to attention and saluted immediately.

"I'm terribly sorry Your Imperial Highness," he apologized to Crown Princess Rima, "I was merely resting after my shift."

Rima was only wearing a simple black and white-lined nightgown that fell to her knees. Compared to Kasia, Rima was more voluptuous, and had plenty of stately, straight blond hair. He had gone outside Praha Palace after the war meeting, wandered into the nearby gardens, and fallen asleep on a bench. It was thus with some surprise that he found Rima in her nightgown wandering around the imperial gardens at night.

"Crown Princess, I must respectfully ask that you return to the palace for your safety," James suggested. "There is a good chance that an assassin—"

"It's alright Lieutenant Commander," Katja Tymoshenko interrupted.

James noticed that some fifty full-armored members of the Silver Guard were all around, as well as another couple hundred Imperial Guardsmen.

"The grounds are now the most heavily protected area anywhere in the world," Tymoshenko lectured. "I'm sure we can—"

James countered, "Have you forgotten who was nearly assassinated right under our noses?"

Katja did not much like hearing of her security failure.

"That was because—"

"The two of you knock it off," Rima interrupted. "I'm not going to be out here long. Just long enough to see my girl."

James followed along, and a minute later, lying in the midst of a fountain-bordered clearing, was a pure white, large queen Dragonkin. The female Dragonkin lifted her head and rumbled affectionately at Rima's approach.

"Matka," the Dragonkin rumbled in a pleased voice.

"Duchess," Rima sighed, "How's my favorite female Dragonkin?"

Duchess stood up, easily dwarfing her "Matka", which meant "mother" in the empire's official tongue. Duchess had no bony protrusions protecting her neck, making her sleeker than her male peers, Sturm and Drang. She still had the large teeth, oblong head, fin-shaped back spikes, and spike-topped tail like the males though. Her brilliant white hide was the most obvious differentiator as the two-story tall Dragonkin leaned down to greet Rima.

Rima rubbed Duchess' throat affectionately, "Any luck with catching a trail?"

Duchess uttered a displeased rumble, "Well, we could find a trail, but those two idiots won't stop fighting over who will mount me. I told them whoever could track down the perpetrator could do it. They'll be stuck searching forever with that kind of motivation."

James found his mouth open in shock at how openly Duchess admitted that her brothers were attempting to mate with her. Ordinarily such things must surely never have happened, but Duchess was coming into breeding age and she was the only queen Smok her brothers could mate with. Perhaps, James thought, they didn't think much about the possible consequences if they didn't have a choice in how to satisfy their innate drives.

Rima asked in a concerned voice, "You don't look well dear. Have you been eating properly?"

"I think so," Duchess rumbled back. "Is father still invading our empire?"

James stomach clenched at this question.

Rima signed, "Yes, as far as I know. Iron Claws is the Dragon Chieftain's second-in-command, so I'm not surprised he's coming. He's probably still trying to reclaim you from us."

"He's an idiot if he thinks I'll leave you," Duchess rumbled in displeasure.

Rima smiled, "I'm glad you think so. You look like you're in pain."

"Just a little," Duchess admitted.

James stepped forward with a scrap of clothing he wanted Duchess to sniff.

James asked, "Crown Princess, would Duchess mind testing this piece of clothing?"

Rima's eyes narrowed, "What is this about Havel?"

"At the war meeting this evening, I saw Duke Djugashvili grin after hearing about your sister's delayed recovery," James stated.

"Lieutenant Commander," Rima sighed, "I may not like Sergei, but I am not as vindictive as Queen Comnenus. I'm not going to kill him on a mere grin seen by a single bodyguard."

"If he's innocent, then Duchess should never have encountered his scent on the assassin's clothing," James reasoned. "Crown Princess, please, we don't have any other leads."

Rima looked to be in deep contemplation as she patted Duchess' head.

"Alright James," Rima agreed, "but what is this clothing you have?"

"Duke Djugashvili's laundry, Crown Princess," he informed Rima.

Rima grabbed it and put it before Duchess' nose, "Duchess dear, did you smell this scent upon the assassin at all?"

Duchess breathed while closing her eyes for a moment and replied, "Well… I'm not sure."

Rima snapped, "What do you mean you're not sure?"

Duchess rumbled, "There was another scent on the assassin, but it was very faint. However that scent is vaguely familiar."

Rima gasped, "Vaguely familiar?"

Duchess nodded, "I'm not totally sure, but I think I may have smelled that scent before."

"Havel," Rima snapped, "You have my full authority as acting Sovereign to investigate this matter immediately. I want you to keep it small; ten to fifteen people. We don't want Sergei catching wind of our suspicions."

Tymoshenko asked, "Crown Princess, should we not relieve Sergei of command on suspicion of treason?"

Rima cursed, "Right in the middle of the fucking invasion! Goddamn this. No, he'll stay in his position as the Reserve Army's officer. I want you to contact the Deputy Interior Minister immediately. We don't have any hard evidence, but if you find anything, contact me immediately Havel."


	11. Chapter 10: A Time for Treason

**Chapter 10: A Time for Treason**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**"After the Organization's overthrow a number of its members were transported to Rabona for imprisonment as penalties for their crimes against the islanders. They were dispersed between several of the holy city's prisons and well-guarded by the Holy Guards. Amongst the most famous of these prisons was the fortress prison of La Rochelle. It was built as a castle upon a small island in the middle of the Toulouse River. It bordered the northwest corner of Rabona pre-expansion. Once Rabona was roughly doubled in size the fortress prison acted as the bulwark safeguarding the much enlarged city from any river-borne attack coming downstream.**

**In 3 A.L.E., La Rochelle housed several Organization prisoners, the most famous of whom was…"**

* * *

Rubel was smiling underneath his mask and black cloak as the canoe silently slid ashore in the midst of deep fog. Before him was the imposing, five-story tall La Rochelle military prison. It sat on a river isle only a few hundred feet long and wide. Its fortified banks were a story above the river except at its northern tip, where they had pulled ashore a narrow beach.

A black-cloaked man next to Rubel remarked, "With god's grace, we shall strike a decisive blow against the faithless, won't we Maestro?"

Rubel clutched the man's hand, "Yes, we shall."

Another dozen canoes pulled up onto the beach undetected, the fog almost impenetrably thick. Rubel had gathered the last significant group of Inquisition insurgents left for a very convenient attack upon La Rochelle Prison. Inside it were two men of great value to the Grand Alliance's plans for the island.

Rubel crept forward quietly towards some stone stairs leading up to the castle's courtyard a story above. The stairway was wedged into a stone wall and blocked off by an iron gate.

"Stand back," he told the insurgents.

There were roughly four dozen of them, and they were wearing black cloaks with modest amounts of plate armor. A few of them still had crossbows, but most had old spears, swords, and battleaxes. They were for the most part made up of teenaged and young adult male fanatics who believed they were about to strike a huge blow in revenge for Mazarin's death.

Rubel reached into the large bag upon his back. He took out a gunpowder grenade and his matchsticks, then promptly lit the fuse. He threw it into the stairway, where it rolled up against the iron gate barring the way up the stairs. Rubel rushed for cover to the left. A few moments later the grenade exploded with a tremendous bang.

"Go, go, go," the leader of the young fanatics shouted.

Rubel waited while three dozen of the insurgents streamed past him, passed over the smashed iron gate, and right up the stairs. Rubel followed a moment later, emerging in a dense fog as men began shouting war cries. The insurgents rushed towards the ten fully-armored prison guards in the courtyard. Rubel meanwhile looked up at La Rochelle's prison tower to the right. It was a hulking thing, its top edged with crenellations, and it only had a few arrow slits to see out. It looked, at first glance, to be truly impenetrable.

Rubel looked back to see the guards simply overpowered, although they managed to kill two insurgents as they were overrun. By now Rubel could hear a siren beginning to whir at the top of La Rochelle's tower.

He shouted, "There he is, shoot him!"

The crossbow-wielding insurgent besides Rubel glanced upwards and spotted the armored guard cranking the siren. With deft skill the fanatic took aim and fired. The guard was hit square in the upper chest. He crumpled, and moments later his lifeless body fell over the fortress' edge. It hit the grassy courtyard yards from Rubel's feet.

Even in the dense fog Rubel could see the ramp leading up to the tower's main entrance. He was made aware of the dangers involved when the crossbow wielder beside him was hit right through the head by an enemy arrow. Rubel rushed into a crowd of fanatics as they sized up the wooden main gate and some returned fire upon the archer on the tower's roof.

Rubel tossed two hand grenades to the black-cloaked leader and his heavily armored subordinate, "Here, take these and blow up the front gate. It's a five-second fuse, so throw them quickly."

"Right maestro," they acknowledged.

Rubel smiled underneath his mask; it was so very easy misdirecting fanatics and using them for his own purposes. They were probably the last remaining fanatics however, so it was crucial he succeeded in the next part of his plan. Rubel quickly ran up to the tower's side, so as to give enemy archers no further chance in picking him off. He glanced around the corner and saw the two hand grenades strike the door. A moment later, as they just began to ricochet off, both exploded.

The wooden gate was blown apart, although its outer edges were still standing. It was smoking and smoldering as the fanatics charged up the ramp leading to the ruined gate. As they got there they were met by a dozen well-armed and armored prison guards. The fanatics were soon taking casualties, but had already taken down a guard. Given the narrow space both sides were fighting over, it was impossible for either group to quickly overwhelm the other.

This suited Rubel though, as he had other plans. He crept away, along the tower's edge, out of sight, until he came to a metal door in the tower's side. It was small, obviously of steel construction, and he rather doubted the designers had ever imagined it could be breached. Rubel took out six more hand grenades and taped them to the door. He tied their extra-long fuses together. He attached an extra line of fuse to where the other fuses all met.

He crept away from the door and laid out the master fuse line. He reached the far corner of the tower, opposite the one where he had watched the insurgents attack. He got behind the protective stone of the tower and lit the master fuse. Half a minute later a powerful, ear-splitting blast echoed across the Toulouse River. Rubel rushed back to find the door blown off its hinges and lying in a shattered heap inside the tower.

Drawing a sword, he rushed inside the smoky, stone-walled interior. He climbed the staircase and emerged in a small hall. Two guards standing watch over the door opposite turned upon hearing his footfall.

One shouted, "Insurgent! Kill him!"

They drew their blades and attacked with the sort of amateur swordsmanship Rubel expected of half-lazy prison guards. He parried their initial stabs, made two quick slashes to throw them off balance, and then promptly felled each with a single slash at neck level. The duratium-forged blade he was wielding snapped their swords and cut right through their armor. They went down gargling, their necks cut open, dying in a matter of moments.

Rubel reached down and grabbed the keychain from one of the dead guards. He slowly and quietly walked forward towards the hall's far end. He spotted a quartet of cells, with only the tops of their wooden doors lined with vertical bars. Two sets of hands were gripping the bars as Rubel walked forward, the sounds of battle just barely audible further below.

"Well, well, if it isn't the traitor," a familiar, sneering voice said as he approached.

The man who said it was in the cell to Rubel's left. He was wearing the black of an Organization agent, only it was tattered and unkempt. His face was ghastly; the entire left side was scarred and stripped of skin except for his nose. His teeth were exposed, and he utterly lacked eyelids, making his left eye appear enormous and grotesque. This was part of the effects from doing limited hybridization effects that many Organization agents did to sense yoki and gain immortality.

"Dae Prado," Rubel nodded, "it seems you are taking captivity surprisingly well."

Dae scoffed, "Yes, as well as you arranged it, you foul bastard. You remember our dear 'friend' Rubel, don't you Ermita?"

"Who can forget," another, more aristocratic male voice replied.

Rubel noticed a man also in black but whose only visible features not covered by his tattered outfit were his eyes and the top of his nose.

Dae prodded, "So Rubel, tell me, why the dramatic entrance? Planning to free us towards some nefarious end no doubt, eh?"

Rubel sniffed in amusement.

"I see no reason why we should cooperate with a traitor like you," Ermita remarked.

Rubel laughed, "Your loyalty to your dead masters is pitiful, Ermita. The Alliance of Nations is gone; it has been replaced by a single empire ruled by a silver-eyed empress. Given the destruction of your backers and state-less condition, perhaps you'll listen to my offer."

Dae's normal right eye narrowed, "Which is?"

Rubel held up a hand with the keys in it, "I'll free you on one condition: you will do whatever your new masters ask of you except harm the Grand Alliance."

Dae leaned in, "What sort of offer are you making?"

Rubel grinned under his mask, "How would you like to get revenge upon Phantom Miria and conduct your precious experiments all at the same time?"

"You and your offer can go to hell Rubel," Ermita snapped.

A smile broke out upon Dae's face however, "Most intriguing. When can I start?"

* * *

"Are you bloody incompetent?"

Miria flinched as Lord Mayor Zaehringen yelled at her. She was standing in his office, which overlooked Rabona's main square and the large, triple-tower Teresian Cathedral on the square's north side. On the west side Miria could see a red flag flying from the Grand Alliance embassy. Opposite it was a black flag with a golden eagle flew from the Romanow Empire's embassy on the square's east side.

Miria swallowed a little pride, "Lord Mayor, with all due respect, our prisons are not designed to withstand attack by gunpowder weapons."

The gray bearded Zaehringen bellowed, "You told me six months ago nobody would be able to get inside and spring them loose. Now you start making excuses when—"

Miria snapped, "I made that promise six months ago when nobody had ever heard of gunpowder weapons here. I had no warning of the attack from our intelligence, and you have even admitted that there's a plot going on to destabilize the kingdom. Doesn't it seem strange that a group of religious fanatics would try to release Organization prisoners and almost all die in the attempt? Hardly any of the attackers escaped when Captain Tabitha's Elite Guard arrived, and now we've seen almost no insurgent attacks anywhere. It all seems very convenient that the insurgent attacks that drove you to unify with the Kingdom of Lautrec have now all but disappeared. I think—"

"That is enough," Zaehringen hissed, tossing his white-plumed hat onto his immense desk. "I've heard enough of your petty jealousy. Look at you, you're a general commanding nearly 40,000 troops, you're the wealthiest person in the kingdom thanks to the diamond mine you own half of—"

"I don't see how my objections and concerns have ANYTHING to do with jealousy," Miria shouted back. "I am trying to keep our country safe, but if you want to ignore your top officer that's your business. King Philippe and Queen Violetta convinced you to appoint their army commander as my second-in-command, which I recommended you not to do."

Zaehringen's chest puffed out underneath his black and white robes, "Why object to it at all? They have graciously agreed to unify their country with ours and all they asked in return was for me to appoint Count Olaf as your second-in-command. It's called gratitude, general!"

"If something should happen to me," Miria said very deliberately, "the head of the army would be in the hands of a man more loyal to the new royals than you."

"I am not going to have this conversation any longer," Zaehringen said firmly. "I will not have your suspicions clouding my relationship with King Philippe and Queen Violetta. You will hunt down this released researcher…"

"Dae Prado," Miria informed Zaehringen.

"Yes, that man. I want you to hunt down this ex-Organization researcher before he starts creating new Yoma and Awakened Beings and unleashes them upon this island. Is that clear?"

Miria knew she was being dismissed and thus saluted, "Yes sir."

* * *

Ermita had refused to come along, and with the guards sounding the alarm once again, there had been no choice but to leave him in prison. Not that Dae particularly cared for Ermita. Ermita was a senior handler, but knew relatively little of the delicate research Dae had carried out in his quest to create a controllable Awakened Being.

With Rubel's help they had hopped into a canoe and paddled off into the fog just in time. Some ten claymores led by the former No. 31 Tabitha had landed upon the island seconds later on its opposite side. The sounds of battle died down as they silently let the current take them downstream. Eventually they got off at a pier on the west bank of the Toulouse River. Waiting there was a large carriage with blinds to shield its passengers from curious bystanders.

The journey had taken all day and much of the night, but finally they arrived at their destination. Rubel exited the carriage first, no longer wearing his mask and disguise from earlier. The sunglass and hat-wearing Rubel motioned for Dae to join him. Dae walked down the steps from the carriage and into a sunny mountain valley. Watching over the carriage was a quartet of red-and-gold cloaked guards in full plate armor.

Rubel motioned Dae towards a cave entrance, "This way."

The rocky cave entrance towered over Dae's head as he walked into it. As it turned out, the cave had steps hewn into it by man, and it was lit by lanterns. After several minutes of walking past stalagmites and stalactites they at last reached a chamber. It had a small amount of sunlight entering it from a hole in the ceiling. The room was natural enough, as its walls, ceiling and floor were made of fine limestone.

An oak table atop a regal rug stood in the room's center, with only a pair of maple chairs standing beside it. Rubel pulled out one chair and Dae sat down in it.

Rubel whispered in his ear, "You are here to help our erstwhile allies. When this task is done, the Grand Alliance would like to acquire your services. We have a far greater task for you to accomplish, and I assure you that we pay very, very well."

Dae smiled and whispered back, "Planning on developing your own force of hybrid warriors, are you?"

Rubel walked back to the wall, folded his arms and didn't comment.

"Dragonkin and claymores fighting together; that's quite a powerful mix. With a force like that you could conquer the planet," Dae remarked.

Rubel didn't reply, and moments later a dozen guards in beautiful plate armor and red and gold-trimmed cloaks entered the room. They took positions around the sunlight-illuminated table and by the two entrances to the chamber. The leader of the guards tapped his halberd upon the floor twice. Moments later a pregnant woman wearing exquisite red and gold robes entered, each of the guards inclining their heads respectfully towards her.

The beautiful woman had long, straight black hair, a shapely body, and an immaculate face marred only by a smirk.

"Monsieur Prado, I am Queen Violetta, one of the two constitutional monarchs of this island," she said in a silky yet menacing voice.

Dae made a polite nod.

Violetta sat down in the chair opposite him, "Monsieur Louvre," she said while gesturing at Rubel, "tells me you were the original scientist who discovered how to make half-Yoma warriors."

Dae brusquely replied, "What of it?"

Violetta put her hands together and rested her head atop them as she stared at him, "How would you like to get the chance to do that again?"

Dae asked, "And who might I be working for, the Grand Alliance?"

Violetta smiled, "Not at first. You'd be working for me at first. But once things go our way, the island will be a part of the Grand Alliance. Bring the girls forward captain."

The leader of Queen Violetta's bodyguards quickly left and then returned with dozens of men bringing in rolling tables. There were some ten girls in all brought in, all unconscious but breathing normally. A couple of the other tables had the remains of what looked to be two Yomas who had been slashed in two at the waist.

"These girls are all around the ideal age of 10-12, are all from Gonal, and they've volunteered to help their blessed queen," Violetta stated. "We also have the donation material you require, which took quite a long time to acquire."

Dae's breathing slowed; it was almost like old times. He could almost feel the glory days coming back already. He examined the Yomas' remains and found them adequate to the task.

Violetta asked, "How long until you can hybridize them all?"

Dae sighed, "You'll have the beginnings of your very own claymore army in about a week, and they'll be recovered enough for combat in two weeks."

Violetta smiled, "Excellent."

Dae warned, "Ten claymores won't be enough to take down Phantom Miria. She's an elite warrior with years of experience, and they'll be amateurs. Chances are none of them, even after we partially awaken them, will be a match for Miria. If your intent is to take down Phantom Miria, it will take over a year to create enough new warriors to even think of challenging her, let alone Clare, Raki, or all the others."

Violetta chuckled, "By the end of today Phantom Miria will no longer be able to stop us."

Dae, puzzled, asked, "What do you mean?"

Violetta malevolently smiled, "There are other methods of getting her out of our way."

* * *

Renée sighed in relief upon arriving at the front of Miria's six-story tall manor in Rabona. It had been a long trek with the foreign man Alexander in tow. Everywhere she could see there were people; and everywhere she walked she could smell the foul stench that was the result. Rabona was definitely booming, but Renée found herself preferring the sleepier Rabona in the few months after Miria had taken command of the military.

"We're going to get going to our place," Clarice announced.

"More like you're racing back to Galk," Clarice's taller adopted daughter Miata humorously interjected. "She can't keep her hands off him," Miata said while winking at Renée .

"Very funny," Clarice coldly remarked in reply. "À la prochaine Renée !"

"To you as well," Renée replied, smiling.

No sooner had she said it than the two began walking off and Clarice lectured Miata, which predictably enough resulted in fresh mockery by Miata.

Renée sighed to herself as they walked off arguing, "Some things just never change."

Clarice noisily shot back as they walked further away, "Don't you get like that with me, young lady!"

This was in turn mocked in pantomime by Miata, which provoked yet another round of loud but now indecipherable shouting. Renée was rather relieved when they rounded the corner and passed out of sight. She turned to the attractive if strange foreign man in his fine clothes.

"Alexander, come on, I know you can't understand me, but I'll get you a room in General Miria's place," she told him.

She motioned him towards the stone manor's impressive front doors and then walked up to them and stopped. She turned around to find that Alexander hadn't moved an inch.

"Come on Alexander," Renée said, motioning to the front doors, "it's okay, there's nothing bad inside."

Renée realized her words probably had little effect upon the man other than to let him know he was being addressed. So she simply grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the door. He stunned her a moment later by slapping her hand off him.

"Look buddy," Renée said, a little peeved. "I know you don't know who I am or what I'm saying, but I can't let you just wander the streets."

Renée attempted to wrap her arm around Alexander's shoulder and herd him into the manor. He roughly knocked her off and shoved her away, causing her to fall on her butt. A number of bystanders gawked and gasped at Alexander's act without lifting a muscle to help her up. Renée got her armored skirt off the dirty cobblestones and scowled.

"Alright you ass," Renée shouted, stamping her armored right foot. "I am so not taking any more of this shit! I saved your ass, and this is how you thank me? Fine, you know what, go on—leave, see how well you do on your own!"

Alexander's eyes widened as her tirade continued.

Renée didn't particularly care if he couldn't understand her as she ranted, "Is this because I'm a silver-eyed warrior? Look you jerk, I deserve gratitude for saving you, not getting my ass pushed into the filth on the streets! How about I shove you and you see how you like it?"

She poked him in the chest to emphasize how ticked off she was when Natalie, in a fine blue dress with puffy sleeves, walked in between her and the ingrate Alexander.

"Hey, come on Natalie, let me just hurt him a little," Renée objected.

"Calm down Renée ," Natalie said, herding her back towards the manor's front doors and a pair of waiting maidservants. "You're creating a scene."

"Yeah, well he wanted one," Renée huffed, pointing at Alexander. "He shoved me, doesn't even show me gratitude for saving him from Yoma, and is behaving like a jerk."

Alexander gulped as Renée menacingly pointed right at him.

"Renée ," Natalie said, exasperated, "you're not helping! You know what mom said about your temper, don't you?"

Renée took a deep breath, "Alright, fine, I'll calm down, but he still owes me an apology! I bet you can't even get that out of him."

Natalie ran her fingers through her long, curly blond hair to soothe her stress before turning to Alexander. Renée didn't bother letting Natalie know Alexander was a foreigner and thus couldn't understand her. It would suit Renée much better to be proved right than to admit there was a language barrier.

Natalie stepped forward to introduce herself, "Bonjour, I'm Natalie de Malaga, daughter of General Miria and Count Cid. I don't know who you are, but could you please apologize to Renée for me?"

Alexander seemed to regard Natalie more thoughtfully. Renée darkly noticed this was probably because Natalie was more petite than her, wearing normal women's clothing, and wasn't wearing her sword. All in all, Natalie wasn't exactly intimidating for a silver-eyed witch.

Alexander looked at Natalie as if unsure what she wanted from him, which he probably was given the language barrier.

"Please," Natalie pleaded, holding her hands together and wearing an earnest, innocent expression. "I know Renée 's scary when she's mad, but it would only be considerate to apologize for what you've done."

Alexander looked as if he were choking back his pride when he said, "Przykro mi."

Natalie smiled, "There, you see, better isn't—wait a moment, what did you just say?"

"He's a foreigner," Renée declared. "Miata and I saved him from a group of Yoma near the Bay of Konstanz. I think he's scared of us, because the first thing he did when he saw us was run straight towards the Yoma. So here I am, dragging his ungrateful butt around, and I can't even communicate with him beyond a few hand signs."

Natalie eyebrows rose in obvious disbelief, "He ran towards a group of Yoma? Are you that mad at him you'd start telling lies like that?"

"I'm not lying," Renée huffed, "ask Miata if you want. He ran straight towards the Yoma he was fleeing from the moment he saw us. I don't know what his problem with silver-eyed witches is, but I sure as hell don't want to put up with his grudges."

Natalie asked, "Does he have a name?"

"Yeah, he said his name was Alexander Comnenus," Renée sniffed.

Alexander's big blue eyes immediately glanced over at Renée upon hearing his name.

"You see? He understands his name at least," Renée pointed out, "so I brought him here, but I've got no idea what to do with him."

Natalie murmured, "You know, that sounds vaguely familiar."

"What does?"

"His name," Natalie clarified. "Mom made me start reading up on books about the greater world, and I could've sworn I saw the name Comnenus in one of them."

Alexander's eyes were now very intent as he silently watched them talk, "Bah, he's probably nobody important."

Natalie looked over at the finely-dressed Alexander, "I'm not so sure about that. Well, come on in, you too Alexander," Natalie said, making a waving motion at him.

Reluctantly Alexander began walking behind as they got to the front doors. Alexander entered and looked curiously around as two maidservants politely bowed to Natalie.

"Rebecca, we've got a foreign guest who doesn't understand much Toulousan. Take him up to the unused back bedroom, and once you've shown him the room could you get him some more clothes? He got shipwrecked on the island you see," Natalie added.

The middle-aged Rebecca nodded politely, "Yes, of course Lady Natalie."

Rebecca motioned to Alexander who after some initial confusion followed.

Renée followed behind Natalie, trudging up one set of stairs after another. On the third floor they reached an open doorway and found ponytailed Cid and messy-haired Raki in black trousers and white shirts. They were both playing cards around a circular table in the manor's art-decorated meeting room.

Cid was smirking as he laid down his hand, "Three aces Raki, there's no way you can beat that."

Raki nonchalantly remarked as he showed his hand, "How about a straight flush?"

Cid's face soured and he threw in his cards in defeat and commented, "Alright Raki, you win, just promise me you'll use the money to get the twins something nice. Natalie, how about you come in here and play a hand for me! Raki's been kicking my butt all game."

Natalie smiled, "Dad, that's called cheating. By the way, we're going to be housing a foreign guest who shipwrecked onto the island. I hope you don't mind!"

"Oh," Cid said. "Well, I'll go down and greet him then."

"He doesn't understand Toulousan," Renée interjected.

Cid sniffed, "Oh well, I was hoping to have a nice conversation. I'll just leave it at an introduction then."

Cid walked out of the meeting room, past both of them, and down the stairs. Raki walked up while counting a little of the money he'd won.

Natalie asked, "How's Claire's pregnancy coming along?"

"She's been having pickle cravings again, but other than that nothing odd," Raki replied.

"Say hi for me to her," Natalie added as she and Renée began walking towards the stairs at the hallway's end.

"Sure thing," Raki answered.

They walked up the stairs, passing by a nervous maid and then reached the door to Natalie's immense sixth floor bedroom. Renée opened it to see it much as she remembered it, only Natalie's walk-in closet was now stuffed with fancy dresses. Natalie's claymore sword hung on a pair of supports on the wall. At the far end was Natalie's immense, pink-sheeted, four-post canopy bed.

"I call the couch," Renée declared, hopping onto Natalie's large black sofa.

"Renée , you should really get your own place someday," Natalie sighed.

"I haven't settled down Natalie, so a home is not really for me," Renée pointed out.

"I'm just saying it looks a little odd for someone with millions of Francs in the bank to not have her own place," Natalie stated.

Renée whistled, "Wow, I didn't think it was that successful already. Those diamonds are selling better than I expected."

Renée unfastened the back of her leg armor while Natalie walked over to one of her dressers, opened a drawer, and looked inside.

Natalie commented, "That's weird; I could've sworn I put our Monarchist League members' list right here."

Renée stretched out on the sofa and plopped a pillow under her head, yawning, "You always misplace things in your dressers, Natalie. Remember the last time you did it? I'm sure it's somewhere in the room."

Renée fell asleep as Natalie began to widen her search.

* * *

"Your Majesty, welcome back," a male courtesan said as Violetta stepped out of the royal carriage.

She walked out of the carriage into the courtyard of the under-construction royal palace in the new, western half of Rabona. It was situated on the north side of the burgeoning citadel, which was hive of activity with construction workers, stonemasons, carpenters, bricklayers, metalworkers, glassblowers, and more frantically working on the massive complex.

Thankfully enough for Violetta the massive building on the citadel's north side was already partially in use due to being originally envisaged as the Lord Mayor's palace. She passed through the courtyard doors and walked into the renaissance-style palace, although much of its beauty was only bare stone at the moment. She arrived at the interim royal bedroom to find her dark-haired, extraordinarily handsome husband talking with a male servant. He was wearing fine red vest and trousers, which were much more functional than heavy and hot ceremonial royal robes.

"Come in dear," Philippe said, a huge grin upon his face. "I have excellent news; we managed to acquire the document you wanted."

Violetta carefully slid her pregnant body into a chair as he handed her a sheet of paper.

"Founding members of the Monarchist League," she read aloud. "Ha, those morons actually put their goal right on paper as getting the people to demand Miria become queen."

Philippe commented, "Their greater stupidity was thinking locking up their documents would safeguard their conspiracy. Evidently they never thought someone else could buy off one of their servants to gain access to their documents. And to think that it was these soldiers who defeated my father. The moment Lord Zaehringen sees these documents we will have won our rematch, and best of all Miria's accursed daughter is on the list!"

Violetta examined the list, "You know there are only seven names on this, eight if you count the dead claymore Nadia."

"That's not going to be enough for us to pull off our plans," Philippe sighed. "I want every single damn witch labeled a traitor, arrested or put on the run."

Violetta smirked, "Oh don't worry dear, I'll see to it that this document is properly prepared by the time it reaches the Lord Mayor Zaehringen's eyes. Servant, leave us."

The elderly male servant bowed politely and silently left the room, closing the doors behind him. Rubel Louvre in his character black uniform, cloak, round sunglasses and wide-brimmed hat stepped into the large, ornate room. He'd come through a hidden door in the wall a few feet away from Philippe, who jumped.

"Hell, Rubel, you surprised me," Violetta's husband gasped.

Rubel Louvre walked quietly across the hardwood floor to the side of the immense maple table and smiled, "As I do many people, Your Majesty. How may I be of help to our cause?"

"Rubel," Violetta said, holding up the incriminating document, "you'd be doing the Grand Alliance a great service if you could help us in forging more evidence onto this list."

Rubel adjusted his sunglasses with a finger as he asked, "What kind of list is it?"

Violetta passed the Monarchist League paper to Rubel, "This is a list of silver-eyed conspirators who wish Phantom Miria were Queen of Toulouse. Unfortunately there are only seven claymores' names upon this sheet of paper."

Rubel grinned as he examined the document, "You want them all on it?"

Philippe answered, "Yes."

Rubel sighed, "Unfortunately I cannot get all of them on it, at least not a couple of the most important names you want. If you want to sideline Raki and Claire, you will need to think up another plan."

Philippe gawked, "What, why not?"

Rubel held up the document and pointed to the signatures, "Neither of them until recently became a military officer, and thus I've never seen their signatures. However, I can forge almost all of the other claymores' signatures, including the biggest fish of them all."

* * *

**Organization Records**

**Year 4**

**Researcher: Dae Prado**

**Discovery: Hybridization**

Researcher Remarks: Since the discovery of how to infect humans with the Yoma virus, efforts have been frantically underway to put this breakthrough to more practical use. Yoma, as our field tests against Smokowcy reveal, are both ineffective and often lacking in intelligence. Our research so far has allowed us some control over groups of Yoma as large as fifty, but beyond this they the marginal benefits are outweighed by the marginal costs of increased dangers to handlers and errant Yoma endangering our own troops.

Given these dangers, I sought to create a new weapon based off of Yoma flesh but more useful than the donor Yoma. We terminated a batch of unruly Yoma, and almost as a joke, I told my assistants I'd put it in them if they kept screwing up. As it turned out, that turned out to be a great punishment for insubordination. I sedated roughly a dozen assistants of little value and surgically inserted modest amounts of Yoma flesh and blood into their bodies.

The results were startling; these men saw their strength become well beyond human, they were soon leaping over two-story walls with ease, their top running speed matched that of a racehorse, their stamina was many times that of a human's, reaction times dropped to as little as a fourth that of average human's, they could reattach severed limbs, regenerate parts of their body, and they could do all this while eating roughly an eighth the calories required by a normal man.

We discovered that although their hybrid half-Yoma state gives them far superior abilities and they retain better intelligence when compared to Yoma, they have the ability to push their usefulness yet further. They can increase their strength, reaction times, healing abilities, speed, and combat stamina temporarily by boosting their usage of Yoma energy in their blood. As they use up their reserves, we noted that the test subjects' bodies became more Yoma-like. To see what would happen if they used a large amount of Yoma energy, we armed them with Duratium-forged swords, found a group of ten Dragonkin rampaging into allied territory, and set them loose.

This group of ten pushed their Yoma energy levels to the extremes, as we had advised beforehand, and the results were surprising. Their bodies morphed from human form into much larger forms, which varied in both abilities and appearance. They varied in size from humanoid to even larger than the Smokowcy facing them and were utterly alien in appearance. A member of my team triumphantly joked it was like their true selves had awakened.

Realizing this was in fact a superb name for the process of the monstrous transformation, we…

* * *

**Organization Records**

**Year 6**

**Researcher: Dae Prado**

**Discovery: Gender Effects on Hybridization**

As per orders, I have further investigated the causes of the mass awakening of our first generation of male warriors. Upon investigation of the surgical process, my team discovered a crucial piece of evidence. The Yoma flesh in the dead male subject was inserted in such a way that certain muscles were pushed inwards. When Yoma energy is used, it is likely swelling of the muscles caused pressure to be put upon the prostate. This in turn would dramatically increase the sexual pleasure of awakening in males. If the surgery were changed, it is highly likely male claymores would be just as useful as…

* * *

**Organization Records**

**Executive Memo**

**To: Lord Rimuto Bastille**

**From: Researcher Dae Prado**

**Date: 15th January, Year 110 of the Organization**

**Subject: Revivification Experiments**

With regards to our latest attempts at creating controllable monsters by using Awakened Being donation flesh, I would like to once again request that my revivification project be granted approval. The creations, as I have outlined before, would be created using Abyssal Isley's remains and implanting them into the remains of the Organization's formerly strongest warriors. I believe that by reviving the dead warriors of this strength that…

"I will give him one thing," Andrei Tuluzy said while tossing the last of the papers back onto his desk, "the man is downright disgusting."

He was seated at a large oak desk in his office, which overlooked Rabona's town square some four stories below. Standing in his large renaissance-style office was his wife, Audrey Tuluzy and the Organization's former Number 3, along with Andrei's trusted Vice Ambassador, the long-haired, silver-eyed Josef Lazarov.

Lazarov, standing to the right and pacing, sighed, "Your Excellency, I hate to say it, but I smell a Grand Alliance plot all over Dae Prado's jailbreak."

Audrey, wearing a puffy-sleeved, red with white striped gown, objected, "I think it's is more likely that we're seeing an internal plot within the Kingdom of Toulouse."

Lazarov scoffed, "Countess Audrey, begging your pardon, but a Grand Alliance plot is much more—"

A thought struck Andrei as he sat listening, watching the bustle of the square below.

He waved his hand towards the Grand Alliance embassy and its red flag on the square's opposite side, "What if you're both partly wrong? Audrey, our sources were telling us that the new royal family is rumored to be Grand Alliance sympathizers, correct?"

Lazarov nodded, "That's true, but that comes from only one source Your Excellency."

Hawk-nosed Andrei got up and looked out the tall arched windows towards the Lord Mayor's Residence. It was a large gothic-style building constructed in red sandstone with a single tower rising ten stories. It dominated the southern side of Rabona's main square, while opposite it was the immense, triple-towered Teresian Cathedral. There were a number of Council Guards showily patrolling throughout the square in full plate armor, blue cloaks, and each distinguished by large plumes of white feathers atop their helmets.

Not far from the arched main entrance to the government headquarters was a modest wooden box. It was positioned atop four wooden poles a couple feet off the ground, and had a small slit at the top, almost like a ballot box.

Andrei asked, "What's that box?"

A baby's distant cry interrupted his questioning.

Audrey sighed as she brushed hair out of her eyes, "I'll see if he needs his diaper changed. You know how our darling little Andrei is dear."

Her husband smirked, "I suspect our son's just hungry again."

Audrey rolled her eyes as she walked to the door, "I just breast-fed him an hour ago! Why does he always cry every time I just start to get relaxed…"

Andrei, although greatly satisfied with recently becoming a father, had become a tad worried with how his silver-eyed wife wasn't more enthusiastic in her embrace of motherhood. He merely watched as she opened the ornate wooden doors and passed a pair of Imperial Marines outside guarding his office. The fully armored men saluted his wife quickly and then returned to their guard stance and closed the doors.

Lazarov, who was wearing white trousers and a black vest just like Andrei, walked alongside to peer at the box he had mentioned in the square below.

"Ah, that, yes, I found out about that this morning," Lazarov commented. "It's a box for people to post anonymous accusations against others in order to 'safeguard the state'. Vile bunch of lies, all of it; my sources tell me it was Queen Violetta who convinced the Lord Mayor to have it installed. I haven't…speak of the devil," Lazarov remarked.

A very distressed looking maid in a red-and-gold dress had walked into the square from the western side. At the square's edge she nervously began glancing around.

"Now why in the world would she be all the way out here," Lazarov wondered aloud.

Andrei pointed at the red-headed girl, "Why do you say that?"

Lazarov looked over and then back, commenting, "That outfit, Your Excellency, its coloration matches those used exclusively by the Angevin Royal Family. But their residence is miles west of here and across the Toulouse River. So either the girl's completely lost or…"

The maid approached the accusations box, and while hiding in the crowd took a quick glance around. She dropped a rolled up set of papers into the box and quietly departed, back into the crowd while watching behind her all the while.

"I would guess there was something rather dangerous in those papers. We may be about to see something rather spectacular," Lazarov murmured.

There came a knock on the doors to the office.

A young man's voice interjected, "Your Excellency, it's urgent."

"You may come in," Andrei said.

A young male servant entered and handed Andrei a sealed dispatch, bowed, and then left just as quickly. Andrei waited until the Imperial Marines shut the doors before breaking the seal and reading.

It read: "Andropoulis confirms that Grand Alliance agent Rubel Louvre was absent from their embassy both during the attack on Baron von Staufen and the La Rochelle Prison jailbreak. He suspects a Grand Alliance plot to use members of the Organization to create a force of silver-eyed warriors for their army and that Rubel is involved in the cover-up of this plot. He requests an immediate reply and instructions as to how to proceed."

Andrei felt his heart clutch in shock as he dropped the paper to the floor.

Lazarov looked over in worry, "Your Excellency?"

"Our source believes there is a Grand Alliance plot to acquire a force of silver-eyed warriors by capturing and using ex-Organization men," Andrei whispered.

Wide-eyed in shock, Lazarov picked up the paper and read it himself, "Those goddamn bastards; it's not enough for them to have Smokowcy on their side; now they want our kind as well? Andrei, we've got to stop this here and now! It'll take a month before our messages reach Her Supreme Imperial Majesty, and we won't get a response for another month at best. We have to act immediately! Andrei?"

"Hold it," Andrei murmured, "there's a commotion around the accusations box."

Lazarov peered down with him to see a soldier reading out something. The side of the accusations' box had been opened, and the maid's documents were being read by the soldier to a couple of others. A Council Guardsman wearing the armor of a captain barked some orders at the man, and he literally ran into the Lord Mayor's Residence.

"God do I hate being right all the time," Lazarov remarked.

"Josef," Andrei hissed, "Get me those Section 3 men here immediately."

Andrei's Vice Ambassador made an immediate salute, opened the doors in a frantic manner, and rushed right past the saluting Imperial Marines. Just as he left Audrey came walking down the hallway, patting her receding pregnancy bump, and stared in shock as Lazarov ran past. She hustled into the room as the Imperial Marines closed the doors.

Audrey gasped, "What's going on, why is Josef looking so worried?"

There hadn't been any new activity outside the Lord Mayor's Residence yet, so Andrei chanced a glance over at his wife.

"Our sources tell us there's a Grand Alliance plot to acquire a force of silver-eyed slayers," Andrei stated.

Audrey gasped, "Is it a credible source?"

"Very," Andrei answered.

Below in the square a number of Council Guards' officers emerged from the Lord Mayor's Residence, each looking intensely alert. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed two female claymores walk out of the Teresian Cathedral's front doors. Almost immediately the Council Guard officers spotted them and began pointing at them with their arms. Their troops began rushing through the crowd, fanning out to either side of the oblivious targets.

"Oh those Monarchist League idiots," Audrey said, pounding her fist into his desk as she watched. "That's Colonel Helen and Murat's fiancée down there. They're walking right into it!"

Andrei closed his eyes as understanding came, "So that's what the royals found."

Audrey, her tone frustrated, "It was bound to happen sooner rather than later. Their little group doesn't even know how to do a conspiracy. When you're plotting to get Phantom Miria installed as queen, the fewer people involved the better. You don't go around to the entire town of Pieta and ask around; it's no wonder we discovered that little plot months ago. I'm shocked—"

Andrei held up his hand, "I see a hundred guardsmen moving in on them; dear, raise your yoki and signal "danger" to your former compatriots. Their lives are depending on it!"

* * *

Helen had just closed the massive iron front door to the Teresian Cathedral when Valencia peered out over the crowd. She was wearing a plain green dress while Helen was in her full combat gear, gold-gilded pauldrons and all. It made for a very awkward sight, but Valencia didn't seem to care about the contrast.

Valencia gasped, "Wow, what a lovely day, look at this place!"

The square was jammed full of people, stalls, and items for sale. It was a gorgeous, sunny day, and seemed better still when Helen spotted the "Malaga Taverne" at the far right hand corner of the square.

Helen touched Valencia atop her massive hair-bun, "Yo, you want to hit the Malaga Taverne? It's run by Cid's uncle."

Valencia got a look and chuckled, "I get the feeling you did some crazy things there."

"Yeah, I think the craziest one was right after we saved Rabona from that Awakened Being four years ago," Helen sighed fondly. "Me and Deneve got totally hammered after the town said they'd pay for our drinks."

Valencia began walking into the crowd, so Helen followed. Why wouldn't she? After all, with the insurgency just about over, she was finally getting a well-deserved break from active duty.

Valencia looked over after they got stuck behind a large group of nuns, "So?"

"Deneve and I tied a rope between two doorknobs and we convinced Yuma we were holding the first ever 'Drunk Games'. We got her hammered, so she totally fell for it. We announced whoever could high-jump the rope while holding a beer in one hand would get to order us around for a week. So Yuma got all stretched out; then we gave her extra beer to help her 'concentrate'."

Valencia was looking into the crowd with a perplexed expression that Helen ignored.

"Yuma starts running, dun dun dun, then she makes this big, awkward jump. She made this big 'unh' sound when her legs hit the rope. The next thing we know Yuma bowls over and does a face plant right into the carpeting. Oh my god, it was fucking golden! Deneve and I just about died laughing," Helen chuckled.

Valencia smiled and then looked up and to the left, straight at the Romanow Empire's embassy. Helen followed her gaze in confusion as she noticed Audrey's yoki was rather high.

"What's the matter, something about Audrey's yoki bothering you Valencia?"

"Well, just look at her in the fifth story window," Valencia pointed. "She's jumping up and down and waving her arms like a maniac!"

Helen looked more closely and saw Audrey's face in the sunlight. Her mouth moved, and Helen's brows furrowed.

Valencia asked, "Can you tell what she's saying?"

Helen remarked in a puzzled tone, "It sort of looked like she was saying 'run'. But why would Audrey tell us to—"

"There they are, surround them men!"

Helen looked around and noticed the crowd dispersing in a panic as dozens of Council Guardsmen surrounded Helen and still-armed Valencia. Valencia was clutching her sword's hilt but had not yet drawn her claymore.

The Guardsmen formed a wall of halberds pointing right at them, which caused Valencia to go back-to-back with Helen for common defense.

A showily armored captain walked into a gap in the lines and declared, "Colonel Helen Habsburg, claymore Valencia, in penance for your plotting against the government, you are under arrest for the crime of treason."

"I'm sorry, but I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your request," Helen smart-mouthed. "Now if you'll excuse me, Valencia and I had better get going."

Helen made a mad dash towards the Teresian Cathedral. The nearest Council Guards thrust up their halberds to meet her jump when she drew her blade. With deft skill, Helen slashed through the ends of five men's weapons. Valencia on cue sprung into their midst and knocked three out before they bolted.

Helen and Valencia ran out of the square with hundreds of soldiers hot on their trails.

Valencia gasped as they sprinted, "What the hell just happened Helen?"

They saw their avenue of escape being cut off by cavalry at the intersection of streets ahead, so Helen didn't bother answering until they'd jumped to the safety of rooftops.

"Shit," she said, observing the hundreds of soldiers converging below them in the street. "I think our Monarchist League stuff got found out."

* * *

Andrei watched in sadness as Helen ran out of view down a street besides the Teresian Cathedral. Audrey was standing in mute shock besides him in his office.

"Well, I tried," Audrey sighed.

"If anything good comes out of this it'll be that the other claymores will mostly get away," Andrei reflected. "I have to agree with both you and Josef, dear. It's beginning to look like the Grand Alliance plotting and the domestic plotting are one and the same."

There was a knock upon the door, and Lazarov swung the door in a little to speak, "Your Excellency, they're here. Do you want to address them in your office or—"

"Just bring them in Josef," Andrei said, waving his hand.

Josef opened the door and walked in. He was followed in by three male silver-eyed slayers of average to modest proportions. They settled into a straight line immediately behind Josef, their hands behind their backs. They were wearing military-style, black cotton outfits from their boots to their neck. Over this they wore a cuirass painted black, a pair of black-painted pauldrons, and a similarly modified set of gauntlets.

They gave off an aura of lethal professionalism that made even a hardened combat veteran like Andrei antsy. They were also absolutely undetectable via yoki sensing; these were men used to stealth missions over a lifetime.

"Captain Besiktas," Andrei said, addressing the toughest looking soldier of the bunch, "we have a priority one set of missions for your men. It has come to my attention that two ex-Organization agents are posing an immediate threat to the national security of our country."

The stoic Besiktas barely even blinked, "Your orders Excellency?"

Andrei walked over to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out two sketches of Rubel Louvre and Dae Prado. He handed three copies of each man's sketch to the short-haired Captain Besiktas.

Andrei stated quietly, "Captain, I need these two men taken out as covertly as possible. Vice Ambassador Lazarov will give you any intelligence you need to help find them. Any questions?"

Besiktas nodded, "Your Excellency, which man is the higher priority target?"

Andrei considered a moment, "Dae Prado. We've reason to believe he is going to defect to the Grand Alliance and take his secrets with him."

Besiktas nodded, "We'll start operational planning right away, Your Excellency."

The three silver-eyed assassins quickly saluted and left the room with Lazarov walking right behind them. Audrey left moments later when the baby began crying a few rooms over. The doors closed, leaving Andrei to quietly contemplate the events he'd just set in motion.

Ironically he saw Rubel Louvre moving through the crowds below towards the Grand Alliance embassy. Regrettably they couldn't kill him in broad daylight, but Rubel's diabolical days of plotting would soon be in mortal danger.

Andrei remarked to himself, "Your date with death can't come soon enough, Rubel."

* * *

Renée was having a nice dream about finally overcoming her self-restraint around men when someone jostled her shoulder.

Renée ," the woman said. "Come on Renée , wake up!"

Renée blinked her eyes open to find pale-face Helen staring into them.

Helen snapped, "We've got to go now! Grab your sword and whatever money you can!"

Renée noticed Yuma and a stressed-out Natalie beside the bedroom's open balcony doors. Pigtailed, silver-eyed Alexandra was wearing full combat attire and watching outside, where it was beginning to downpour. Natalie and Yuma hustled outside and then jumped out of sight.

Renée , flummoxed, asked, "What's going on?"

Helen rasped, "Zaehringen found out about the Monarchist League, and now he's ordered the arrest of every claymore in the army! We have to get out of Rabona, come on!"

Renée hustled to her feet, sheathed her sword, grabbed a couple thousand Francs in Natalie's open vault, and rushed to the balcony with the others. Renée heard a thunderous clap of horse hooves upon cobblestone and looked down. Hundreds of cavalrymen were racing towards the manor's front door as men and women hustled out of their way.

"Shit, they're already here," Helen hissed. "Come on Renée , onto the roof. We're going to high-tail it to a boat in the old canal and get somewhere safe downstream."

As the cavalrymen dismounted and rushed up the manor's front stoop, Renée jumped backwards and onto the manor's relatively flat roof. She found curly-haired Natalie in a tight navy-blue leather outfit waving from the roof of the building across the street.

Natalie shouted, "Come on guys, hurry up and jump!"

Alexandra, who'd followed Renée up to the roof jumped first, barely making it thanks to Natalie catching the elder witch by one arm and pulling her up to safety. Helen jumped next and nearly overshot the roof entirely, while Renée made her jump with ease. They were soon jumping between and over roofs as a series of sirens began to loudly wail in alarm.

They ran along the length of the canal and then jumped down into the streets near a bridge. A series of whistles drew Renée 's attention down the street to the left, where a group of soldiers were blasting whistles at them and commanding them to stop.

Tabitha, wearing full combat armor, appeared at the top of a stairway to Renée 's right near the bridge's edge and shouted, "This way!"

The group of Helen, Renée , Natalie, Alexandra, and Yuma rushed to follow Tabitha down the stairs. Behind them Renée could hear the soldiers closing in, their armor clinking as they ran across the cobblestone streets. A sizable boat with a dozen sets of oars on each side was docked at a pier in the canal. In it were almost all of Renée 's remaining claymore comrades, who were frantically preparing to set off. It was pushing off the pier and heading downstream towards the southern exit out of Rabona when Renée jumped aboard.

Tabitha shouted at Helen, "I told you we got too open about our group!"

Helen shot back, "Now's not the time to be spreading blame."

Yuma looked around and said with worry, "Where's General Miria and Commander Virginia? Why aren't they here with us?"

"I'll tell you why," an angry Nina interjected. "It's because we couldn't warn them in time! Zaehringen sent Galk over to the citadel before we could get there."

"Hey guys," Natalie shouted, "they're closing the gate!"

Up ahead the canal pierced straight through the massive fortified walls of Rabona. However it could be closed off in event of attack by a massive steel gate, which was now descending to close off the boat's avenue of escape.

Renée rushed to an oar and shouted, "Faster girls, come on, put your backs into it!"

"Don't worry, I've got an ace up my sleeve," Helen said.

Helen had walked up to the large boat's bow and begun to twist her arm. Renée knew immediately that Helen was planning to smash the gate to allow their escape. When they got to within fifty yards Helen extended out her right arm holding her immense claymore. As she did so she unwound the coiled arm at incredible speed, turning the blade into a massive drill.

The gate had just closed when Helen's spinning sword overshot the gate.

Renée shouted in alarm, "Helen, what the hell are you—"

Helen's sword slashed through the supports holding the gate upright. It fell into the canal, and moments later the boat simply knocked over the partly submerged gate. Everyone breathed a huge sigh of relief as they passed over the gate and the boat floated into the Toulouse River.

"Don't act relieved," Tabitha snapped. "This is still a disaster!"

* * *

Miria was examining her map in her citadel office. She was considering where Dae Prado might have escaped to since the jailbreak at La Rochelle Prison. The only thing about the jailbreak that surprised her was the fact that Ermita hadn't been sprung. Given that Ermita's cell was across the way from Dae's, whoever had released Dae must have chosen to leave Ermita where he was.

Miria examined the map of western Rabona and then walked back to her desk. She took out a piece of stationary and began writing orders to do a house-to-house search in the western half of the city. She had just signed off on the orders when there was a knock on her office's door. Miria was about to ask who it was when Galk walked into her office with six other men in full plate armor and wielding broadswords.

"What brings you here so early Galk?"

Galk reluctantly took out his sword and pointed it at her, "General Miria de Malaga, by order of Lord Mayor Zaehringen, you are under arrest."

"On what charge?"

Galk sternly replied, "Treason."


	12. Chapter 11: Iron Claws

**Chapter 11: ****Iron Claws**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A Complete History"**

**What many people today wonder is how did the world's great alliances maintain the will to war against one another for over a century? In the case of the Grand Alliance, the answer is obvious: the massive Dragonkin acted as enforcers of pro-war unity. The draconic tribe usually profited from war, thus their leaders would often act to crush anti-war dissent, either by threat or use of force. Thirteen years after the Global War began; an entire province in the Szechwan Empire rebelled against onerous wartime taxation. The Dragonkin reacted in brutal fashion. They forced the equivocating Szechwan Emperor to grant their leader permission to fight on his territory, and then proceeded to kill every man, woman and child in cities that did not unconditionally surrender. After killing all 300,000 plus inhabitants of the province's largest city, the rebels meekly gave in to the terrifying and brutal show of force.**

**The Alliance of Nations was never so strongly unified. Its pro-war advocates were the aristocracy, who profited from a state of constant war. However, early in the Global War, even they wavered as the Dragonkin smashed army after army. The age of knights and chivalry soon died out in the face of the arms race. When Yoma were created, the first glimmers of hope were seen. However by this time the leader of the alliance's smallest state, the Al-Maktoum Emirate, decided the war was not in his people's interests. The other leaders reacted badly, and sent thousands of Yoma into the Emirate. After they killed tens of thousands, including the Emir, a more compliant relative was installed as the country's ruler.**

**Nearly a century later the enforcers of such unity were the silver-eyed slayers. They were not originally intended to fight in the Global War at all. Instead the first slayers were set upon rebels, criminals, dissenters, and free thinkers. There were three arms of the allied military by this time. Section 1 was Allied Army Command, Section 2 was Allied Naval Command, and Section 3 was Allied Special Operations Command. It was the third arm that funded the Organization and unleashed Awakened Beings upon the Dragonkin.**

**Starting out 25 years before the Organization's fall, Section 3's "Slayer Program" grew steadily. There were originally just two purposes of slayers: killing internal opposition and hunting errant Awakened Beings. Over time they were diversified in tasks, and eventually alliance politics brought most slayers under the command of Allied Army Command. In 6 B.L.E., a proposal from a bold slayer squad commander, Katarzyna Yushchenka, caught the eye of the Supreme Commander of Allied Army Command, Field Marshal Poniatowski. Yushchenka proposed a secret excursion to attack a draconic nesting ground. Poniatowski, ever eager to prove he was superior to his Section 3 rivals, jumped on the idea.**

**The expedition was without precedent in alliance history. No one had even considered attacking the distant draconic nesting grounds before. Taking more than a year to reach one, Yushchenka's expedition was a startling success. With a mere 48 warriors, Yushchenka's expedition killed some 26 Smokowcy, including two adult queens and 24 juveniles. However, it was the capturing of three hatchlings by Rima and Kasia Romanowa that was to become the expedition's crowning achievement. It was an expedition that unknowingly would catapult the stepsisters into alliance politics.**

**However, the hatchlings' biological father was not so pleased at their abduction by silver-eyed witches. He was determined to get them back and wreak bloody vengeance upon the sisters. Unfortunately for the blissfully ignorant Romanows, this Smok was none other than…**

* * *

_"The scurvy dogs refuse to surrender, so we're going to take their bloody ship," a man's voice shouted. _

_ Ten year-old James blinked. He was atop the forecastle of a large ocean-going ship, the wind whipping his thick black bangs. He was wearing blue trousers that cut off just below the knee and a plain white sailor's shirt. It was just past midday, and the sun was shining brilliantly upon the azure blue tropical waters everywhere in sight. The sails were full of wind, and the ship was moving along at good speed. All around him were sailors rushing towards the cannons and others donning cuirasses and conquistador-style helmets. _

_ "Blast it boy, what the hell ye be doing?" _

_ James jumped and looked up to find the brown-bearded captain looking down upon him with contempt. James gulped at the Tricorn-wearing, middle-aged man glaring down at him. _

_ "Cap'n," James stammered. _

_ "Blast it boy, quit standing around like a useless buffon! Go to the stern and hoist 'er flag," the captain ordered. _

_ James rushed back towards the stern, walking down some steps from the forecastle down to the main deck. On James' right, the ship's port side, he saw a smaller merchant ship a quarter mile distant to the side. It was flying a rich blue flag with fourteen gold stars upon it; it was the flag of the Alliance of Nations. James knew immediately this was a target of incredible danger. Attacking a merchant ship from the supreme maritime power on the high seas would draw a vicious reprisal. _

_ James was startled from his gazing by the first blast of the ship's cannon. He ran to the far side, where he didn't stand any danger of being smashed underneath ricocheting cannon. James reached the stern of the ship. He grabbed the flag rope and after a series of pulls a distinctive pirate flag was flying high. _

_ James turned back to watch the short battle that followed. The pirate ship loosed a full broadside against the merchant ship, which reeled from the hits. Wood splinters went flying and James saw one man gruesomely shot in two by a cannon firing two mini-balls joined by a chain. The merchant ship for its part fired back. James saw his first mate, standing next to the captain, beheaded by one cannonball. A second broadside from the pirate ship took out most of the merchant ship's cannon. Within moments the merchants flew up the white flag of surrender. _

_ They pulled up alongside the merchant ship, which was filled full of terror-stricken men, women and children. Its top deck was littered with over a score of dead bodies when James' comrades threw over their grappling hooks. They pulled their lines taut, and moments later boarding planks were planted. The ship's crew was rapidly placed into chains. _

_ The merchant captain was brought forward, squirming as he was held by two guards. He wore a red cap topped with a white feather and expensive red and white clothes. His ornately-dressed wife and very young daughter were brought forward as well. _

_ "Ye dog," James' captain growled. "We be flying the pirate flag, and ye had the gall to resist? Bruce, give yer crossbow to the boy." _

_ James was suddenly handed a large, loaded crossbow. _

_ "This be are thank-ye for yer resistance," James' captain snarled. _

_ The captain turned his back on the wide-eyed merchant, and without a moment's hesitation slashed right through the merchant wife's neck. _

_ "NO!" _

_ The merchant was crying out in anguish, sobbing as his wife's body toppled to the deck, blood pooling around her slit throat. _

_ "Before ye die ye will see your daughter perish before yer eyes! Boy, shoot the imp!" _

_ The captain was staring straight at James, and he felt his brow slicken with sweat. He raised the crossbow but did not aim it at the daughter, who looked to be around five years old. _

_ "No, please, I beg you, don't do it," the girl's father cried out. "I'll let you do anything to me, just don't hurt my precious Patricia!" _

_ James' captain backhanded the father, who slumped while held by two men. _

_Patricia cried, "Daddy!" _

_There were tears streaming down the little girl's face as she tried to rush to her father's side. The captain knocked her down, so she lay down, her arm stretched out towards her father. _

_The captain shouted, "Kill the imp, boy!" _

_James objected as he raised crossbow, "But cap'n, she's—"_

"_Shut up and kill her!" _

_As James flinched his trigger finger squeezed, the arrow loosing from the crossbow abruptly. The little girl's crying was silenced and the father collapsed onto the deck. _

_James' captain praised, "Well done boy, now ye've become a true pirate!" _

_James could only nod as he left for his quarters. His head began to feel light; in fact he felt horribly sick. He entered his tiny room, his brow already slick with sweat, his stomach churning and his temperature feeling ever hotter. He rushed to the open port window and hurled out the window. It immediately made his stomach feel better, and he dropped into his hammock, trying to sleep away his worries and his moistening eyes. _

_He couldn't sleep; he felt like he'd never be able to sleep again. _

_James put a hand over his eyes "Oh God, what have I done?" _

_There was only one thing that might calm down his nerves, which were causing his hands to shake: food. James grabbed a melon, cut it open with a knife, and began to eat. He saw another one on a very small table he'd looted from a prior prize. He tried to grab it, but despite gripping it firmly it refused to move. He dug in his fingernails and tried harder when it began to talk. _

"_Ow, James, come on, there's no need to dig in your fingernails!" _

James woke up to find himself grasping a brown-skinned woman's nude right breast. A glance found Kasia's lovely eyes staring into his own. He knew immediately where he was: on a warship bound for Visegrad. He was lying on a fur-topped bed atop some wooden crates.

Kasia sat up as his breath slowed, "You were having quite the nightmare, James."

James sat up and sighed, "I'd rather not talk about it."

Kasia's eyebrows arched, "Not even if you were talking in your sleep during it?"

James gulped.

"You killed somebody innocent before becoming a warrior, didn't you?"

James found himself enveloped by Kasia's comforting embrace, "It's alright James; you can tell me. You'll feel better if you do."

James found the scent of Kasia's luscious, wavy blond hair quite soothing as they embraced. For whatever reason her warmth always calmed him down, particularly when she wasn't wearing any clothes, like she wasn't at present.

"When I was seven years old, I ran away from home," James explained, whispering into Kasia's left ear. "I joined Captain Jonah Morgan's privateers. It was when Breton was at war with both superpowers. Our ship 'liberated' the contents of merchant ships belonging to nations from the Grand Alliance and the Alliance of Nations.

Kasia clarified, "You mean he became a pirate?"

"Yes. It was when I was ten; we captured a merchant ship that hadn't given up immediately. The captain wanted revenge for his dead first mate. He killed the wife of the merchant ship's captain. He told me to kill the man's daughter and I…"

Kasia sighed, "James, you were ten years old. Would you blame a child for that?"

James sighed, "Maybe not, but that doesn't change the fact that I was the one who killed a five-year-old girl!"

"James, you were not an adult. You can't blame yourself for being forced to do something you wouldn't do voluntarily," Kasia lectured.

"Maybe you're right, but I can't forgive myself for it," James sighed.

"You've been doing penance for over a decade James," Kasia pointed out. "Don't you think your God would have noticed by now?"

James kissed Kasia in thanks; she could be so wonderful to have around some days.

Kasia surprised him moments later by getting romantic, and he soon found himself lying atop her, passionately kissing her on the neck. He could feel Kasia wrap her legs around his waist, and he felt the magic moment finally coming when the large officer's room door opened. Rima, wearing a gleaming cuirass, sword and a form-fitting warrior's outfit walked in on them. Kasia immediately knocked him off her in an awkward squawking moment.

Kasia shouted, "Rima out, get out!"

Rima seemed a bit shocked at what she'd walked in on, but Kasia was in no mood for Rima to be in the room with them both nude.

"I said out!"

Rima huffed, "Alright, alright, give me a frickin' second, Kasia."

The door closed, and from behind it Rima kept talking, "Sorry for that. Lillian wants to talk to you, Kasia, and Commander Yushchenka would like a word with James."

Kasia stood up and began putting on her clothes, and James reluctantly followed her example. He'd been on the edge of finally getting what he dreamed about for five years and Rima just had to walk in on them. James had only just gotten his pants on when Rima knocked on the door again, which was followed by some insistent squeaking.

Kasia shouted, "Just give us a moment!"

Kasia and James had just gotten their shirts on when the door was smacked open. It wasn't Rima barging through, but her two male Dragonkin kids, each with a rich red-brown hide.

"Sturm, Drang, wait a moment for Matka," Rima growled.

The two Dragonkin, each the size of a very large dog, hadn't grown too much yet. Nor, for that matter, had their glimmering white sister, who was serenely following Rima into the room. The trip back had taken a year, and the three Dragonkin hatchlings had grown only modestly in that time. Rima had been given the captain's quarters to help raise them, and the three hatchlings had refused to leave her side for a minute since they came onboard.

This was proved in startling fashion when Rima left for a bathroom break one morning with her three adopted offspring seemingly sound asleep. Rima came back to find the door torn off its hinges and three Dragonkin running around the deck, frantically squeaking for her and tearing into every rice sack in sight, convinced Rima would be inside. The crew thus had to fashion Rima a crude toilet chamber, the outside of which was still covered in scratches from the worried baby Smokowcy.

Rima had named the two males Sturm and Drang, because they were forever getting into scraps, were way too full of energy, and always knocking over furniture as they ran around. The baby queen Smok in contrast behaved like a model child; always obeying Rima, listening to each and every story Rima read, and would even curl up and sleep in Rima's lap at night. Rima called the female Smok "Duchess", an appropriate name in James' opinion giving her stately behavior.

Kasia was looking at her prettier sister at present with a scowl, "Would it kill you to knock?"

"I said sorry," Rima huffed, her cheeks red with embarrassment. "I hadn't planned on you and James being…"

Rima trailed off, the situation clearly too awkward to describe. James put on his armored shoes while Kasia loudly lectured Rima. He tried his best to ignore their sisterly squabbling until it ended and Rima began boasting about "her children".

Rima stuck out her armored chest with pride, saying, "Only yesterday, Duchess said her first words! She called me Matka!"

Duchess seemed happy at the praise, as she was circling around Rima and rubbing against her much like a cat; if a cat had oversized arms, scaly skin, stood on two legs, and had a whip-like tail that is. James noticed the bigger of the baby male Smokowcy, Drang, near his feet and eyeing his claymore with curiosity. Sturm meanwhile had sat down besides his armored shoes, which he was looking at in curiosity.

Rima patted Duchess on the shoulders, "Go on Duchess."

Duchess looked up at Kasia and said in a squeaky voice, "Ciocia Kasia."

Kasia clapped in approval, at which Duchess contentedly thumped her tail against a table leg. Meanwhile James noticed his claymore was moving on its own. Or so it seemed until he looked down and found Drang gnawing on his sword's handle.

James snapped, "Hey, knock it off! OWWWWW!"

James right foot hurt something awful, and he noticed Sturm was biting down on his armored shoe experimentally. James kicked Sturm off, flinging him airborne and causing the baby Smok to land on his back right before Rima. Drang, noticing the retribution, hurriedly scurried out of reach, rushing towards the shelter of the bed next to the windows.

"Goddammit Sturm," James thundered, "my foot is not your chew toy!"

Sturm scrambled up onto his feet as James limped over to him. Before James could retaliate he'd hid behind Rima's long legs and begun whimpering incessantly.

Rima smacked Sturm on the nose, "Don't do that. That goes for you too, Drang."

The two Smokowcy young were shivering in fright, both obviously aware they'd incurred their Matka's disapproval and done something wrong.

"Just let me teach him a lesson," James hissed.

Rima held him back as Sturm scrambled out of the open door and out of sight.

Rima sighed, "James, I know he's ticked you off, but he's teething. He investigates things with his mouth. I'll try to keep him from doing it again, but he's like a toddler right now. You have to understand he didn't mean to hurt you. "

"I'll just have to watch my limbs around him then," James hissed.

Rima shouted, "Drang, get your mouth off that!"

Drang had apparently taken the time in the interim to investigate the resistive qualities of a wood support beam with his jaw. He was still attempting to get his too-small jaw around it when Rima grabbed him by the neck. A series of pitiful squeaking followed.

"Don't you dare try to play innocent," Rima lectured. "Come along Duchess, we're going back. Don't forget about the summons you two."

Kasia kissed him goodbye on the cheek, leaving him to limp through the ship all the way to the bow, where Katarzyna's small quarters were located. James found the half Siyamese, half Khaledonian slayer looking out the open window. Outside James noticed lines extending to a large team of oxen on a nearby shore. It looked like they were being towed up a river. He could just see a grand palace atop a hill around a bend in the river.

James asked "Are we almost there?"

Katarzyna turned around, her plain face contrasting with her gorgeous voice, "Yes, we're almost to Visegrad. We land later today. What happened to your armored shoe?"

James grimaced, "Sturm."

Katarzyna smiled, "Ah, well, they tend to do that. Though to be fair those Smokowcy babies are probably the best things to ever happen to Rima. I would never have guessed someone could describe Rima as nurturing and motherly when I met her."

"What did you want to talk about Commander?"

Katarzyna settled down onto her modest raised bed, which in reality was a raised wooden platform covered in furs.

"You're looking very dashing these days James," Katarzyna complimented. "She says you've been working out a lot more for her sake. I hear she's even cured you of those bad habits Noir gave you."

"Well I have been working out," James admitted, purposely avoiding any discussion of his supposed prior perversions.

"I can tell," Katarzyna remarked, patting his well-muscled right arm, at which he flinched back. "Oh relax James, if I wanted you that way I'm sure it would have happened already. Not to say you aren't attractive, but I prefer not upsetting my favorite girl. By the way James, has she consummated the relationship?"

James replied, "Well, she's been sleeping in the buff with me for two weeks. Lately she's been getting really good with her hands and mouth, and last night she really gave me a good—"

Katarzyna chuckled, "James, I don't need the pornographic details about that. All I need to know is have you consummated the relationship?"

"Well, not exactly," James admitted.

Katarzyna admitted, "There's a reason why I want you two to consummate the relationship. The fact that she and Rima captured the hatchlings is going to change everything. Chances are high she will be reassigned to another squad within the month. I don't want her to live on in perpetual regret to her final days at what might have been."

"I'll try, but she makes me ashamed of myself whenever I pressure her about it."

Yushchenka grinned, "Any girl sleeping in the nude with her boyfriend wants it, no matter what they say otherwise. Kasia has always been skittish about this sort of thing, James. It'll happen soon enough; she's losing her fear of physical intimacy thanks to you. Besides, I seem to recall her calling you 'delicious' yesterday."

"I'll have to thank her for that," James chuckled. "By the way, how exactly did you know about Noir and me? I don't recall talking with you about that."

Katarzyna smirked, "I have a very highly placed connection in the Allied Army Command who has unfettered access to your files."

James felt shocked, "Who?"

Katarzyna flicked some of her straight blond hair out of her eyes as she remarked, "If we have any luck, you might see him when we arrive in Visegrad later today.

"But—"

"You're dismissed Sergeant."

* * *

"This is a damn outrage," Rima huffed. "I will not stand for my babies being shown like a bunch of prizes!"

Kasia hid her eyes with a hand; a year before that would've been too generous for Rima. Now she was puffed up in outrage at the very idea the Allied High Command wanted to see the juveniles while they were strictly under control. Considering that adult Smokowcy got up to three stories tall and could annihilate small armies, this was not an entirely unreasonable. Of course the baby Smokowcy had barely grown since birth, so the danger was minimal.

To make matters worse for the other three slayer squad commanders standing on deck, the ship literally minutes away from docking. Katarzyna had just told Rima they would have to put collars and chained leashes upon her three Smokowcy, which had provoked Rima's yelling.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to toilet train Sturm and Drang?"

Kasia rebutted, "Rima, that's not relevant, plus we don't have time for this!"

Rima, true to her stubborn personality, stood firm, "I will not see my little ones treated like a bunch of monsters!"

Curly-haired Lillian brought forward a cup of tea, "Rima, would you take some tea and let me explain things?"

"Alright," Rima agreed.

Lillian put a hand on Rima's shoulder, "The four squad commanders are being summoned before the leaders of the entire alliance. You know Sturm and Drang don't always behave, and we absolutely cannot afford to piss them off."

"They wouldn't dare harm my…what the hell did you put in my…"

Rima fell to her knees, and a few moments later was lying upon the ground, out cold.

"That was some nicely done sedation, Lillian," Bastia complimented.

"Thank you Your Highness," Lillian smiled.

"Kasia, you'll be coming in Rima's place," Katarzyna said.

James and Katherine quickly grabbed unconscious Rima and carried her bodily back to her quarters. This upset the three Smokowcy, who were whimpering and squeaking in a growing racket as they pulled up to the dock. They were all together in a rolling cage that had only two small windows to let in air. This was to conceal the extremely valuable draconic offspring from prying eyes and maintain secrecy.

They pulled into a covered dock, and cloaked men rushed onboard holding clipboards. For several minutes they were all signing off on oaths of secrecy about the ship's squeaking cargo. They pulled the cage across the plank and onto the dock. Sturm and Drang, determined to not be separated from Rima, took to rocking the cage wildly. They continued this despite Kasia's best efforts to calm them down.

There were nearly no guards at all as they entered a tunnel and walked underground. The tunnel was etched into limestone and arched at the top. They just barely managed to make it to a dumbbell elevator at the tunnel's end when Sturm and Drang knocked the cage off its wheels.

Kasia looked down and cursed, "Oh hell, they've broken one of the wheels. We're going to have to lead them forward on foot."

Bastia unlocked the cage's door, just as the dumbbell was safely being hoisted up a large vault by pulleys far above. Sturm and Drang, looking rather panicked, looked around frantically for something reassuring. They spotted Kasia and bounded over, bowling her over before they could restrained. White-skinned Duchess knocked the two off her, encircling Kasia protectively from her far more panicked brothers.

"Duchess, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to put this on you," Kasia said, putting the iron collar around Duchess' neck.

It was rather harder to put collars on Sturm and Drang, as both were intent on investigating the collars by biting on them first. Lillian attempted to put collars on them, which provoked a vicious bit of snapping and hissing.

"You try it then," Lillian said, "but hurry up, we're almost up to the palace."

Kasia found the two more than obliging, and had just managed to attach the chain leash to their collars when they arrived in the bottom of the palace. A quartet of gaudily dressed soldiers stood stiffly at attention; or rather they tried to stand stiffly at attention. Their eyes couldn't help but glance down at the three creatures encircling Kasia's legs like protective guard dogs.

They walked past only a few dozen guards in full plate armor and the blue and gold livery of the alliance. Each wielded an impressively ornate halberd, which they tapped on the ground as they passed. It took all of Kasia's strength holding the leash to keep Sturm and Drang from rushing over in curiosity to investigate it all with their mouths. Duchess thankfully was keeping them in line with snaps of her jaws whenever their attention wandered.

They were stopped by a quartet of guards in an open, arched doorway. Beyond was what looked like a horse showing ground, as the turf was made of sawdust and earth.

Kasia heard a shrill woman's voice shout, "This damn rebellion has lasted long enough."

A chillingly familiar male voice interrupted, "I know it is my responsibility. Ever since I overthrew my incompetent nephew, these little Muharajas think they can defy me. I will show the rebellious Bengalis I mean business. If we kill three million of them, they'll be eating out of our hands. No one will dare defy me, and the Bengali Empire will be securely in our hands."

Bastia hissed in a whisper, "It's Bahadur. I don't believe it; he has overthrown his nephew the Sultan since we last saw him."

Kasia noticed in the gallery above the horse showing ground were dozens of dignitaries wearing their finest clothes. Some looked like high-ranking nobles, but other were clearly the autocrats in charge. However most were out of sight, as the walls blocked her vision.

"Then we are agreed," the shrill woman said. "Section 3 will crush the rebellion against war-time taxation with Section 1's help."

These statements chilled Kasia to the core. Section 3 was responsible for making 'one-way' monsters to take on the Dragonkin. They also employed death squads and teams of assassins and claymores trained in ruthless special operations. When Section 3 was put on the case of quelling dissent, resistance brought only absolute annihilation. Section 1, Allied Army Command, was far less ruthless. What was most chilling was Bahadur's total disregard for innocent lives.

"Field Marshal Poniatowski, you may bring forward the prizes," a man said.

The quartet of guards before Kasia motioned her forward, and she followed Katarzyna, Lillian and Bastia while towing the obstinate three Smokowcy into the light. Overhead a massive crystal chandelier full of candles lit the rococo-style, white and gold room. The gallery, where the allied leaders were sitting, was an impressive two stories up. There was a shocked hush as they got a look at Duchess, Sturm and Drang.

A well-groomed military officer was standing in the room's center. He was wearing a gold-trimmed blue cape, and had a gorgeously ornamented breastplate. He had a few spots of gray in his hair, and looked to be of late middle age.

"Honorable leaders of Allied High Command, I would like to present the team of slayers that managed to capture the three Smokowcy hatchlings you see here. A little over two years ago, Commander Katarzyna Yushchenka approached me with the idea of making a raid upon one of the draconic tribe's nesting grounds. Having seen her plans, I agreed."

Kasia noticed in discomfort that now-Sultan Bahadur was staring right at her. He brushed his bushy mustache, and to Kasia's disgust the balding man was pudgier than ever.

"It took just over a year for the 4-squad expedition to reach their target on the far side of the Maghrebi Desert. Having passed over a supposedly impassable desert, they then attacked a Smokowcy nesting ground, a first in recorded history. They killed twenty-six Dragonkin and later captured these three hatchlings you see here."

Bahadur asked in shocking fashion, "How much do you think the draconic tribe would be willing to pay to get those three back?"

Poniatowski seemed annoyed at this line of questioning, "Esteemed Sultan, I would strongly suggest we never give them back. If we were ever able to capture another female and a few more male hatchlings, we could have the beginnings of our very own draconic tribe."

A gathering storm of approving talk, murmurs and whispers came after this declaration.

A well-groomed man with a brown beard and a crown atop his head stood up, "A toast then to our magnificent Supreme Commander of the Allied Armies!"

The other leaders lifted their wine glasses and cheered while Kasia digested the fact that their expedition had been personally ordered by the top army officer in the entire alliance. Katarzyna had never mentioned that little fact, leading Kasia to wonder why.

Poniatowski smiled and bowed from the waist, and example Kasia belatedly followed.

"I am most humbled by your praise King Lech," Poniatowski answered. "Given our recent success, I would like to ask you all to reconsider the orders considering the rebellion. I am sure our armies could put down the insurrection without needing to kill three million people."

"It will be considered at a later date," the turbaned, fat Sultan Bahadur stated.

Kasia thought she saw Poniatowski scowl for the briefest of moments, but it was gone almost instantly, replaced by an emotionless mask.

"Of course Your Eminence," Poniatowski replied, "this way commanders."

Kasia had to drag the fearful hatchlings forward as she followed Poniatowski. All three of them were uneasy about the unfamiliar surroundings, as their entire world had consisted of only a warship and the sea for almost all of their lives. They were fearful until they reached a door opposite to the tunnel that opened onto a picturesque veranda.

They took off at once, seeing three large water bowls like those used by Rima. In the process they knocked over Poniatowski and Katarzyna. Kasia rushed over as the three Smokowcy began lapping up the water like they'd been starved.

"I' m terribly sorry sir," Kasia profusely apologized while helping Poniatowski to his feet. "I'm not technically the one they think is their mother, so they don't obey me like they would Rima."

Poniatowski graciously came to his feet and looked her over, "It's alright, at least you're considerate, unlike that ass Bahadur. He wants Section 3 to kill three million people, as if that's going to help our war effort against the Grand Alliance!"

Katarzyna got to her feet beside Poniatowski, "Antoni, this is Kasia Romanowa. Well, that's technically just her nickname, but there'd be too much confusion if she used her full name."

Kasia noticed Katarzyna had one arm wrapped around Poniatowski's waist. Surprisingly Poniatowski didn't even raise an objection at all to her actions.

"Ah, so you're the one who my dear mistress thinks should be a commander," he remarked, in better cheer. "Your mission report from the Smokowcy raid was perhaps the best-written I've ever seen. I can't imagine why you weren't made a commander before now."

Kasia noticed Lillian uncomfortably averting her gaze from the conversation.

"Katarzyna showed me your combat records, and I think given your recent success," he said, pointing to the three thirsty Dragonkin, "there will be absolutely no objections if I name you a squad commander right now."

Kasia remarked in disbelief, "Sir?"

"Congratulations Commander Romanowa," he said, shaking her hand.

"Thank you sir," Kasia beamed.

"It's not a problem. My, my, who have we here?"

Bastia sniffed, "Don't you remember me? You know, that annoying little Chiquita?"

Poniatowski smiled and shook her outstretched hand, "Ah, Princess Bastia, I am relieved to see you again at last. You have really blossomed since I last saw you."

Lillian stepped forward to shake his hand and introduce herself, "Sir, I am Commander Lillian O'Malley, Victoria's McKenzie's ex-protégé."

Kasia grinded her teeth; Lillian didn't need to show off after all. Although she loved Lillian like a sister, Lillian had bad habits, like flaunting her flawless looks and big bust around the sailors on the journey back. It was enough to set off a few arguments, particularly when Kasia suspected Lillian had been purposely bending over just as James was walking by.

"A pleasure Commander O'Malley, and I must say you are possibly the most beautiful commander I've ever seen," Poniatowski complimented.

Lillian beamed while Kasia sealed her lips; somehow it was not possible for the male species to not comment on Lillian's looks. Half the time someone met Kasia all they could do was comment on the branded number upon her left cheek. The other half of the time they were too busy complimenting Lillian's looks to bother with her.

"Thank you sir," Lillian nodded.

"Now if you don't mind, I'd like to try to avert our 'dear friends' from unleashing Section 3 on the Bengali people," Poniatowski stated. "Oh, and don't mind your three Smokowcy; I had the water drugged with sleeping pills on Katarzyna's advice. Someone will be by shortly to take them back to Commander Rima."

Kasia looked over to see the three small Dragonkin groggily settling down in a heap to nap together. Within moments they were fast asleep, with stately Duchess atop her top brothers. They looked remarkably comfortable upon the sunny stone veranda.

Poniatowski and Katarzyna walked off, each with an arm around the other's waist, and walked out of sight down some stairs into the palace grounds.

"Well," Bastia commented, "It looks like they're getting along like when I last saw them."

Lillian and Kasia turned in disbelief to hear her better.

Bastia scoffed, "What, you seriously thought the fools in Allied High Command would be audacious enough to have ordered our expedition? Katarzyna was the one who sold him on mounting it."

Lillian asked, "How do you know that?"

Bastia scoffed, "You think I wasn't a true princess before my parents condemned me to premature death by combat, Lillian? Katarzyna Yushchenka's a legend; she's the very first member of the slayer program. I was six when I first met her. She was protecting my father as a member of his bodyguards. Poniatowski used to come see her back then as well. After you two rescued me from captivity, I sought her out when Bahadur arrested the squad. She told me she had an expedition she was planning, and that it came with top-level secrecy."

Kasia objected, "But why not tell us—"

Bastia explained, "She didn't tell you because you didn't have a need-to-know. It was all part of the plan. We couldn't afford for the Grand Alliance to get wind of what was going on."

"I still don't get Poniatowski; there are so many other female slayer commanders better looking than Katarzyna. Why choose her as a mistress?"

Kasia snapped, "Oh, so you think you deserve to be his mistress based on your looks?"

Lillian shot back, "I never said I wanted that! What's the matter with you Kasia?"

"Nothing," Kasia muttered, preferring to discontinue their tiny spat.

A young man wearing fine red-and-white trousers and a puffy-sleeved jacket walked up the stairs to the stone veranda. The brown-haired boy, who looked remarkably close in age and appearance to Bastia, stopped short in shock as he saw the sleeping Smokowcy. He was checking Duchess' pulse on her neck when Bastia asked, "Alexander?"

The teenage boy turned and looked confused, "Who are you?"

Bastia jumped with joy and hugged him, "Don't you recognize your twin sister?"

* * *

"Rima, come on, we shouldn't we going through here," James hissed, following hurriedly behind the thankfully unarmed but still intimidating Rima.

Rima had woken up on the warship after having been purposefully sedated with drugs in her tea by Lillian. Unlike with poisons, sedatives were almost impossible for most warriors to filter out of their blood. James was surprised Rima had fallen for the trick at all, but then again no one had been bold enough to drug Rima before. He had little doubt that if anyone but Lillian had tried this, an elite, seasoned warrior herself, the results would not be pretty.

"Commander, I really think we ought to go back," James said, exasperated.

"Not a chance," Rima snapped over her shoulder.

They were walking past bewildered guards in the opulent Royal Visegrad Palace, its marble halls echoing with the steps of countless courtiers, courtesans, servants, clerks, bureaucrats, soldiers and aristocrats. Art decorated the walls, and arched doorways framed each and every hall they passed through. Rima was obviously homing in on the yokis of Lillian, Bastia, and Kasia.

They came to a veranda looking out on a lovely inner palace courtyard when Rima abruptly stopped. Two massive halberds had crossed right under her chin, each held by a pair of identical silver-eyed, male warriors. They had long ponytails and a muscular build, and were wearing an all-black outfit of black-painted armor and black-dyed cotton.

"Stop, stop," Kasia's voice interjected.

Kasia was running towards them from beside a magnificent granite fountain.

"It's okay, she's fine; that's my sister," Kasia explained.

The identical twins warily dropped their weapons, eyeing Rima with some suspicion. James noticed the three young Dragonkin, with a groggy Duchess in the lead, walking towards their matka. Rima was soon surrounded by her adopted "children", but they were exhibiting some almost drunken behavior, toppling over and utterly uncoordinated.

Rima seemed of two minds as she asked, "What happened to them?"

"They were sedated so that Bastia, Lillian and I could bring them here without any problems; don't get so worried, they're fine," Kasia reassured, patting Duchess on the head.

"Why are they moving around like they're drunk?"

"That's the sedatives' side effects; don't worry, they'll be fine in a few hours," Kasia said. "Can I ask you boys to bring their rolling cage?"

The identical twin warriors blinked for a moment and then left. James had scarcely seen an emotion on their faces; there was no doubt what they were. They were identical twin "special" slayers, with one controlling a soul-link as the other partially awakened. They could both do this, which made them lethal soldiers, but to accomplish this they had almost no sense of self outside of battle. They were both uncomfortably eerie and lethally efficient.

Rima breathed a sigh of relief, "God they're freaky. Don't you know what they are?"

"My bodyguards," a teenage boy in fine clothes said.

The boy was on the verge of filling out to full manhood, and had attractive blue eyes, short brown hair, a refined, attractive face, and bore an uncanny resemblance to the flawless features of Bastia. He was wearing a short-sleeved white shirt with puffy sleeves and black trousers with silver-buckle shoes.

"I'm Prince Alexander Comnenus; I'm Bastia's twin brother," the boy said, smiling. "You must be Rima."

"Ah yes… I am," Rima stammered, a little apprehensive as she eyed Alexander and then his silent bodyguards standing a meter away, "apologies Your Highness."

Alexander's eerie twin bodyguards had reappeared with a sizable rolling cage.

"I had best get going back with the Smokowcy," Rima stated. "It was nice meeting you, Your Highness."

Rima quickly rounded up her uncoordinated, groggy baby Smokowcy, loaded them into the cage, locked the door, and then walked off quickly, waving goodbye.

"It seems I scared her off," Alexander sighed. "I should still like to see the Smokowcy sometime again. Thankfully I still got to draw and measure them."

Kasia patted James on the back, "Would you like to see Prince Alexander's art?"

James walked behind the sinewy Kasia to a large sketchpad. It was as wide as the spread of his arms, and as tall as his torso. The three Smokowcy were seen in the image lying asleep upon the courtyard's stones. Two lounge chairs were seen above, each touching the end of the other in the sketch's center.

Lying suggestively on their sides upon them were Kasia and Lillian. Kasia occupied the left chair, one arm dangling down to caress the sleeping Duchess' head. Lillian was lying out in the opposite direction, and each of the girls had their mouths suggestively open. Their fine figures and hair were sparingly detailed, but what was drawn looked almost as if it had been taken from real life, down the Kasia's fine, toned legs.

Kasia sighed in satisfaction at the sketch, "He says this is the latest style of art. Prince Alexander is a great artist, don't you think? "

"Yes," James murmured.

Lillian walked up, "It's like he can capture real life on a canvas. He was showing us everything from his art, instruments and his inventions."

Kasia asked, "James, wait till you see me play the cello."

Kasia walked over to a strange wooden instrument with pegs on a long neck, a gorgeous wooden body the size of Kasia's torso, and tipped with a metal pin. She picked up a bow as Lillian, Bastia and Alexander all gathered around to watch. Suddenly, as Kasia moved the bow across the strings, a primitive form of music rose.

Alexander moved in alongside Kasia, "No, like this."

James bit his lip when he saw Alexander kneel alongside Kasia, gripping her arm.

"You'll want your grip like this," Alexander instructed with his head close to Kasia's, guiding her hand gingerly.

Kasia changed her grip on the bow's handle as Alexander guided her bow hand, "There, much better, don't you think?"

James bit his lip at Alexander's behavior towards Kasia; he felt a terrible fear take him as he watched Kasia's "playing" with Alexander's physical guidance. It was only worsened by Kasia's smile; she was clearly enjoying herself. He noticed Alexander's freakish twin bodyguards eyeing him warily. James tried his best to get his emotions under control.

Kasia finished playing, "There, that's enough. So, what do you think James?"

"Not bad," was all he could manage.

"You're being generous, but thanks anyways," Kasia smiled. "Prince Alexander thinks I have a gift for math and problem-solving."

"That'd be a huge understatement," Alexander said, standing next to James. "I can't think of anybody who could understand introductory calculus so fast; well, besides myself. You'd be destined to be a great queen if she were born into a royal family like ours."

Kasia blushed, "That's very kind but I'm afraid I'd have no idea how to rule anything."

Bastia, who had been smiling up to now, suddenly had a very concerned look upon her face as she stared at Alexander. Alexander for his part glanced back but seemed not to take much notice of his silver-eyed sister.

James decided he'd had enough of Alexander's behavior, "I'm sorry, but we really must get going back to our duties Your Highness."

Alexander seemed taken aback but under his sister's warning eyes gave in, "Well… that's fine, but before you go there's something I think you might like. It's something my friend Tesla and I only recently invented, and it might be very useful if you ever come across hostile Smokowcy. We call them 'Hellenic grenades'."

Another teenage boy with a bad mustache and a leaner build than Alexander walked up with eight grapefruit-size metal grenades. Each had a line of rope attached to their tops; they seemed utterly bizarre to James as Alexander handed four each to Kasia and Bastia. He couldn't imagine what in the world a grenade might be useful for.

Kasia looked at the grenades in her hand, "How do they work?"

"You light the cloth, make sure it's burning, and then throw it hard at whatever you want to hurt," Alexander said. "It will shatter and burn."

Kasia looked at the grenades curiously, "Can I try it here?"

"No," Alexander replied, "that's too dangerous. I can show you its effects with something else however. Nikola, bring in the special weapon."

The black-haired Nikola arched his eyebrows, "That one?"

Alexander replied, "Yes, that one."

Nikola left and a moment later came back later carrying something even more bizarre than Hellenic grenades. It was a metal device composed of two cylinders; a small top cylinder and a large bottom cylinder. They were attached together by a pair of metal links. The upper cylinder has a sort of piston pump on it, and on the opposite end featured dragon mouth with a lit flame within its jaws.

"Everyone stand back," Tesla instructed.

Alexander towed out a wooden post next to the playful waters of the gushing courtyard fountain and rushed to the side. James inched back, as did Kasia, Lillian and Bastia.

Tesla took aim at the post and pressed the piston pump forward. Everyone present but Prince Alexander and Tesla yelled out as a jet of flame flew out. It jetted out fifteen meters and hit the post square on, leaving it smoking. With the next jet of flame moments later it began to burn, and by the third was doing so at a rapid pace. Tesla put the weapon down as James' heartbeat only slowly began to come down.

Lillian exclaimed, "What sort of devilish weapon is that?"

Kasia added, "How is such a thing possible in this age?"

Alexander, who stood almost as tall as Lillian, sighed, "It's a firethrower. It turns out this sort of weapon was around over a thousand years ago; I just revived it. The Hellenic navies used to use them against their enemies, and Tesla found a 1500-year-old Szechwan manuscript for an even better one. This is the only one so far, but we'll make more later. The same Naphtha inside this firethrower is also inside those grenades."

Bastia tried to hand her grenades back, "Then you have them."

Alexander refused, "Trust me, they'll come in useful. So long as you don't expose them to fire you have nothing to worry about. Here, I've got two bags to hold them."

Kasia and Bastia reluctantly accepted the bags, stuffing the dangerous grenades inside with care. Curly-haired Lillian was keeping her distance from the bags, as did Bastia.

Alexander asked, "Well its best you left for your duties, no?"

"Of course, and thank you Your Highness," Kasia said, putting the bag over her back.

Kasia and Lillian bowed goodbye to Alexander, and James belatedly bowed as well. James wrapped an arm around Kasia's shoulder as they exited the courtyard. A contingent of soldiers passing by was so distracted by Lillian's shapely curves that the first row of men actually ran into a host of servants. James would have been amused at the cursing the servants unleashed upon the hapless soldiers if not for the nagging fear he couldn't repress.

James whispered to Kasia, "So, did you like seeing him?"

Kasia rolled her eyes, "Oh come on James, I'm a slayer, he's a prince, there's no need to worry or be jealous."

"You were flirting with him," James hissed.

Kasia sighed, "Oh alright, fine, I liked talking to him. Nothing was going to happen, so why don't we go back and celebrate your 22nd birthday?"

James was surprised by this change of topic, "Celebrate? I've never had a birthday party, so why would the squads do a birthday party for me?"

"I thought we'd celebrate alone with a lot of sex," Kasia whispered. "I thought that's what you've been wanting, no?"

James thought he had died and gone to heaven; he'd only been waiting for Kasia to say that for five years.

* * *

Kasia plopped a list down on the desk and asked, "Why isn't James in my squad list?"

Katarzyna looked up from some clerical work, "Now why would that be my concern?"

They were in the local hotel that had been housing them outside Visegrad for more than a month. The Dragonkin had proved utterly inseparable from Rima, so the Allied High Command reluctantly decided they had to find her a hiding place. Rima had been confined to large estate in the countryside, and Kasia had not even gotten the chance to say goodbye. She had of course been promoted to Dowódca, Comnenian for the rank of "commander".

However, for over a month no news about her supposed squad had been incoming. Kasia had continued as Lillian's Vice Commander, which could at times be awkward. Rima's squad had disappeared along with their commander, leaving only Katarzyna, Bastia, and Lillian's squads at a lower-class hotel. The patrons gave the slayers a wide berth, and there had been limited things to do. One was to practice their fighting skills outside in the fields.

The rest of the time Kasia had spent with James, making love without care for what their squadmates thought of the racket in her hotel room. She had never felt happier in her life; she began to wonder if she was experiencing the fabled "marital bliss" supposedly enjoyed by newlyweds. It was enough to make a girl forget all cares in the world; that was until she found a message showing her a list of members to be in her new squad. It had showed up in the morning, and to her alarm her request that James be in it had not been honored. Thus she was confronting Katarzyna, who as mistress to the top army officer in the alliance who ought be capable of fixing the problem.

Katarzyna repeated, "Well Kasia, why is this my problem?"

Kasia countered, "I specifically requested that James be in my squad, and he's not!"

Katarzyna sighed, "Kasia—"

"You're Poniatowski's mistress; why didn't you just ask him to reassign James?"

"Kasia, sit down, there's something, I need to tell you," Katarzyna instructed.

"But you have the Field Marshal's ear, why didn't you—"

"I said sit down Kasia," Katarzyna snapped, losing her temper.

Kasia hastily sat down in a chair before Katarzyna, who was sitting up in her bed.

"There's been something going on you need to know," Kasia's superior informed her. "Sultan Bahadur has been trying to get you assigned… as his personal head of bodyguards."

Kasia gulped; she had first encountered Bahadur two years prior, when he was only a Viceroy. He seemed to think her a reincarnation of his late wife, and after having her knocked out and locked her in unbreakable duratium proceeded to rape her. Now that he was Sultan of an entire empire, justice looked further away than ever. In fact it was on his advice that Awakened Beings and silver-eyed assassins would be turned loose upon his own rebellious subjects. Bahadur made Kasia sick to her stomach.

Katarzyna continued, "It took all of Antoni's skills just to keep you out of Bahadur's arms. He had to use a loophole in the rules to get you appointed to lead a squad not protecting Bahadur. It turns out if you create an all-new squad with all-new warriors, the sole individual with right to appoint the commander is the top army officer, not Allied High Command. So don't take it out on me that James isn't in the squad; Antoni did the best he could."

"Oh," was all Kasia managed.

"I'm sorry Kasia, but we're slayers, not people," Katarzyna apologized. "If we had the power to change things, I know I would, but we don't. You still have one hour to get ready and say goodbye to James in the meantime."

Kasia felt a tear drop down her face.

Katarzyna stood up and embraced her, "I know this is tough to take. In the two years I've known you, you've become like a daughter to me. My motherly advice is to say goodbye as best you can and move on. You will have to Kasia; the lives of eleven other warriors will soon be relying on your wits and combat skills. They will not respect your orders if you cannot control your emotions before them."

Kasia left; she said goodbye to James quietly, and they'd shared one last kiss. She knew it might be the last time she would ever see him alive. She spared him one last glance and somehow avoided an emotional breakdown. She left for the squad assembly point and found a mostly empty field a few hundred meters from the hotel. Kasia leaned against a wooden fence; she didn't have long to wait.

A group of four female slayers quickly arrived; two dark-skinned beauties of Bantu descent, one skinny, brown-skinned Bengali girl, and a short, light-skinned Khaledonian warrior. Other female warriors soon arrived, but to Kasia's surprise not one but four male slayers showed up looking around in curiosity. A few more females arrived, and Kasia noted that it appeared all eleven of her new subordinates had arrived.

A distant church bell chimed for noon, and the slayers began glancing around. A few of them noticed her and began talking in hushed voices. Kasia decided to let them stew for a moment; in truth she needed to calm down her nerves. She hadn't forgotten James, it was merely that her fear of embarrassing herself had overridden those emotions.

"Is that her?"

"Seems a little nonchalant for a Dowódca, don't you think?"

"She's a new Dowódca though right?"

"Doesn't seem very talkative," one male voice noted.

One silver-haired male warrior remarked, "Holy cow, look at how tall she is. She's got to be at least 190 centimeters tall. I didn't think female slayers could get that tall!"

This last remark Kasia could hardly ignore; her height had always been something of a sore point in that everybody noticed it, from James to short housewives.

"I'm 187 centimeters tall if you must know," Kasia stated as she stood up, walking towards the group. "If everyone would line up, we can begin the—"

"IF? You don't ask your squad to line up, you order them," an accented female voice interrupted.

Kasia turned to find a girl who had brown Bengali skin and the blond hair of a slayer girl. She looked slightly shorter than James, wore her lovely hair in a braided ponytail down her right side, and had an arrogant beauty to her features.

"Do not mistake my personality for a lack of guts," Kasia snapped. "We will be taking a few days to practice squad combat drills, but before we get started, it'd be best if everyone introduces themselves. My name is Kasia Romanowa."

The squad quickly lined up in a burst of teenage peppiness. Kasia began with the smiling Bantu girl at the line's left side.

"My name is Aminata, and I'm fourteen and have no combat experience," the girl stated. "I'm really happy to be a part of your squad and hope we get along well."

Aminata was eager to please, which at least was a constructive emotion Kasia could harness. A brown-skinned, messy, silver-haired warrior of Hispano descent was next.

"I'm Lewis, I don't have any combat experience, and um… I'm sorry I commented about your height," he added sheepishly.

"It's fine Lewis… Lewis, my head's up here," Kasia pointed out.

Lewis, who by her estimation was just less than 180 centimeters tall, had been staring straight into her armor's rounded bosom.

"Sorry," Lewis gulped, looking down and blushing.

Kasia had a tough time suppressing a grin, so she moved on. The next warrior was just as young, but he was distinctively hawk-nosed, had a strong, masculine chin, and was almost as tall as Kasia. He held out his hand to greet her.

"My name is Andrei, and I'm pleased to meet you Dowódca," Andrei said while taking her hand and kissing it chivalrously. "I hope we may enjoy each other's company tonight."

"That's really taking things a bit far Andrei," Kasia objected as she drew back her hand.

"If you're not going to take your spoils as commander, maybe I should," the rude Bengali girl from earlier snapped.

Kasia came back to the girl further down the line, "It has nothing to do with not wanting to be the Dowódca."

This girl however seemed intent on challenging her, "If you lack the guts to do what is expected of you, then I will do it for you!"

Kasia knew a challenge to fight when she heard one, "What makes you think you're ready for command…"

"The name's Daksha Padmasree," Kasia's challenger sniffed. "I don't need to think I'm ready, I AM ready for command."

Kasia sighed in exasperation, "If you want my position that badly Daksha, why don't you tell the squad your qualifications?"

Daksha hissed, "If you want to follow miss tall and naïve, you should know I graduated third in my class, I have five months of successful operations against rebels as part of my training, and I'll show you all that I'm stronger than her!"

Kasia clapped, "Impressive…for a rookie."

Daksha scoffed, "Rookie? What makes you think your—"

"Only my five years of combat experience Daksha," Kasia stated. "On my first mission, our squad ran into a pair of Dragonkin, and only three of us survived. I've conducted suppression of rebel activities for over a year, did covert operations, and I've had several successful anti-Smokowcy missions."

"It doesn't matter," Daksha snapped, more defensive. "I'll show you all who's stronger, and then they'll have to follow me. You won't get to hog the guys like—"

"Daksha, are you challenging me because of Andrei, Lewis and the others?"

Daksha seemed embarrassed, "Everyone knows that squad commanders are supposed to be the strongest and take the spoils, or are you just afraid to fight?"

"Fine, Daksha, I'll fight on fair terms, but on one condition if I win. You'll obey me unconditionally and never challenge me again."

"Alright, then we can start," Daksha said.

They shook on it, Daksha turned around, Kasia immediately swung the flat of her blade upon Daksha's head. Daksha was knocked flat as everyone gasped, and Kasia walked up alongside the groaning girl.

"You cheated," Daksha whimpered, holding her head.

"Your mistake was never saying when to start Daksha," Kasia countered, kneeling beside Daksha and massaging her head. "Strength doesn't matter if you don't use it with intelligence. There's no point in me spilling the blood of a comrade over a few males. Don't think of only yourself; there's more at stake than your pride. Now are you going to challenge me again or accept me as your Dowódca?"

* * *

"She's not completely happy about it but she hasn't rebelled against me," Kasia informed Bastia. "Actually she's the best warrior I've got, so I made her Vice Commander. She seems to like ordering the rest of the squad around; actually I had to keep her from taking it too seriously. She got the rest of the squad up before dawn yesterday to do endurance training; I cut it short before Andrei and Katja took their argument physically."

Bastia, wearing her full armor, arched her eyebrows, "I thought you said the girl's name was Daksha Padmasree."

"Well she got annoyed with me mispronouncing her name, so she's renamed herself Katja Tymoshenko," Kasia explained. "By the way, are we really supposed to let these guys go?"

By happy coincidence the first mission given to Kasia and her squad had teamed her back up with Bastia's squad within the Bengali Empire. Katarzyna and Lillian's squads were assigned to taking out an errant Awakened Being not far away. Kasia and Bastia's mission in contrast was far less dangerous but downright aggravating. They had been assigned to capture a group of local nobility turned to crime.

With two full-strength slayer squads it had been all too easy, but that was better than the opposite problem. The area was even pleasant enough, its subtropical temperatures and sparse palm trees giving the lush surroundings a pleasant feeling to Kasia. Her only regret was that James was not here to enjoy this with her.

The Bengali gentry outlaws were not being pleasant when their handcuffed young male leader complained, "I will never make a deal with Untouchables like you! You have polluted the bodies of me and my men, and—"

Bastia didn't let the rant continue when she slapped him across the face, "Look you foul bastard, there are villagers who will swear that you killed fifteen people this year. Sultan Bahadur is offering you amnesty for your crimes if you fight on his behalf. You can either take his offer or we let those low-caste villagers string you up."

"I'd like a moment to consult with my men," the finely dressed criminal nobleman said.

The two squads were standing guard on the road around the criminals when Kasia grabbed hairbun-loving Bastia by the arm.

"This is sickening," Kasia whispered. "They killed fifteen men, raped their wives, and they've sold the children into slavery. How can we just let off like this?"

"Because we don't make the laws," Bastia said. "The sons of nobility have always been turning to a life of crime; they're the biggest criminals in this age. If these men were peasants, they'd be killed, but we live in an age where violent men are useful. Sultan Bahadur will probably just turn them loose against the rebels instead of—"

Katja interjected, "We've got a serious problem; there's a slayer approaching and it feels like his yoki is really stressed.

Kasia reached out her senses and murmured, "James."

Bastia took out a hand telescope, "Oh hell, we've got a pair of Smokowcy incoming."

Katja gasped, "That's impossible, we're over two hundred kilometers from the front!"

Kasia snapped, "It's not if Smokowcy are raiding in force. We're going to help him out."

Despite the gentry outlaws yelling at them to unlock them, Kasia and Bastia ignored their pleas and bolted across the rolling plains. They had just cleared a small hill when Kasia spotted James with her naked eye. He was running towards them but decided to make a stand against two 3-story tall Smokowcy. James settled into a guarded stance. The Smok on James' right lashed out with the enormous claws on its long fingers. James dived to the right, the attack missing by fractions of a second. He countered with a vicious swing of his blade, slashing off a small part of a claw. Moments later he was knocked off his feet.

Kasia knew he wouldn't last long without help, "Squad, we're taking the Dragonkin on the right. Katja, Andrei, lead your teams to the sides and behind it, I'll take it straight on with my group. Keep your nerves everyone, and you'll keep your lives!"

The squad looked extremely nervous, unlike Bastia's veteran squad, but Kasia didn't have time to care. Andrei's team of four whipped around behind the Smok as Bastia's team assaulted the other. Andrei's team had to duck as the Smok's whip-like, spike-topped tail swung right over them. Katja's team distracted it further but didn't engage, just as Kasia had taught.

This left the Smok's right side wide open. Kasia made a jump and plunged her blade deep into the side of its neck. She twisted the blade as Lewis and Andrei slashed the tendons in the back of its legs. The Smok, screeching in pain, fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Katja slashed through its neck, but Kasia had already given the death-blow. Within moments it breathed its last.

"That, Katja, is why I wanted to have command," Kasia stated. "You did well for a rookie, as did the whole squad for that matter."

Lewis exclaimed in excitement, "We didn't even take a casualty!"

Kasia hopped off as Bastia administered the death-blow to the other Smok. Bastia had landed atop its neck and managed to slash through its spinal cord. She jumped off just as the Smok collapsed. Kasia noticed the rest of her squad looking a little awestruck; to be fair they had never faced Smokowcy in combat before.

James came huffing over, breathing hard and holding a bloodied right leg, "Kasia, we were ambushed. You've got to save them!"

Bastia ran up as James slumped to rest against the dead Smok's side, "They're trying to escape," James gasped, "an ambush… dozens of them."

Kasia jumped into action as soon as James pointed towards some nearby woods. There were only a few yokis left as they approached, leading Kasia to fear the worst. Lillian and her remaining male favorite Ichiro were running out of the woods nearby, each caked in sweat. Lillian tripped, and a moment later the closest forest was leveled by an enormously large male Smok. He was about to shred Lillian when Ichiro charged to protect her.

Ichiro screamed as he held his claymore aloft, "Banzai!"

Lillian scrambled to her feet and shouted, "Ichiro, no!"

The Smok seemed bemused, and slashed underneath the blade, shredding Ichiro into three parts with ease. Bastia grabbed Lillian and rushed her to a safe distance. Kasia rushed left towards the remaining yoki of Katarzyna. Katarzyna, panting, jumped out of the forest nearby. The enormous Smok who had emerged whipped around his whip-like tail with astonishing power and speed. It cut down several rows of trees and then horrifically connected with Katarzyna's legs.

These flew off her body as Katarzyna screamed out in pain. Kasia just ducked the whipping tail as Katarzyna's body slammed into the ground. Kasia grabbed her former superior and hoisted her bodily over one shoulder. The next moment the edge of the woods all over was leveled by over a dozen more Smokowcy. A series of tremendous tremors pulsed through the earth as the Smokowcy-leveled trees hammered into the ground.

"Katarzyna, I've got you," Kasia shouted, rushing back towards the open plains.

Kasia's squad, which was further from the woods, looked like deer in lantern light.

Kasia urged them, "Go, get moving now!"

Katarzyna was bleeding badly, but there was no time to help her start healing yet. The two squads took off at a full run, rushing towards where they'd left James. Bastia and tearful Lillian had just crested a rolling hill when they abruptly stopped. Kasia soon saw why: encircling and surrounding them were thousands of cavalrymen and mounted archers. They weren't coming any closer but were moving to cut off all avenues of escape.

"Hell," Bastia cursed.

Behind them the Dragonkin were like a mountain of mass charging after them, Kasia at a glance estimating there to be over three dozen. Ordinarily human soldiers would be easy to cut through, but cavalry and mounted archers were a uniquely nasty combination against slayers. The sheer numbers of Grand Alliance cavalry meant that there was no realistic way for two slayer squads to make it out. Kasia turned to see the enormous Smok from earlier stopping a hundred meters away, as did a pair of his comrades. The others spread out behind him, finishing the encirclement.

"Oh god, we're going to die," Lewis squawked in terror.

Katja smacked some sense back into him before he panicked the others further. Kasia noticed Katarzyna had passed out, but she still had a pulse. They would have to get out soon if she was to live. Kasia passed over the wounded commander to Andrei, who looked like he had the strength to carry her at speed.

The Smok leader rumbled, "Where is Kasia Romanowa? Don't be shy Kasia; I can smell your foul stench. I know you're here. Come on, don't be cowardly."

Andrei gasped, "He knows our language!"

The huge Smok sniffed in disdain, "You think we Dragonkin are not sentient, do you boy-witch? Yes, I have learned your barbaric tongue, now come out and talk with me Kasia, or I'll have your friends butchered this instant!"

Kasia sighed and walked a few meters out, "Bravo Smok, you've encircled us, but I'm afraid we are not worth your efforts."

The orange-eyed monster eyed her carefully now, "Don't play dumb with me, witch. A little over a year ago there was an attack on the Brunnen nesting grounds. Over two dozen juvenile, baby and females were immorally cut down by a group led by the infamous Katarzyna Yushchenka. I have come to collect on the debt you and your comrades owe my family."

The vicious intent was obvious in the gravelly, rumbling voice of the Smok.

Kasia asked, "If you're here to kill us, then why haven't you attacked already?"

The Smok looked enraged, opening his jaws and roaring. Members of both squads flinched at the terrifying sight and sound. Kasia however stood her ground.

"Do you think that I, the Vice Chieftain of the entire draconic tribe, would not know who was responsible? We are the ones who have the most influence in the Grand Alliance, and I assure you we will use the Grand Alliance's full power to get them back."

Kasia asked, "Do you have a name?"

Many Dragonkin started chortling; Kasia thought it sounded as if they were laughing.

The Smok continued "I am the worst nightmare your kind has ever known. My name is Eisen Klauen, otherwise known in your language as Iron Claws. I lost two of my daughters to your expedition, Kasia. The moment I heard about the atrocities you committed I swore I would track down and shred the perpetrators with my own claws. However, before I do so, I'd like to know where my other offspring are now."

"You think I'll say anything?"

"My men can be very 'persuasive'," Iron Claws threatened. "What's your choice, to give me the information now and die quickly or spend the rest of your existence being slowly pulled apart until you finally crack?"

Kasia answered, "I'll have to think about it for a moment."

Kasia turned to Bastia, Lillian, Bastia's no. 2, Leon, and her own no. 2, Katja.

Kasia had them circle around as Iron Claw watched, "Bastia, you're the best warrior here, can we break out through those soldiers?"

"Not that many," Bastia replied, shaking her head. We'd be shot to pieces."

An idea hit Kasia as she realized something, "And if we used the grenades?"

"Face it Kasia, Iron Claws and his Dragonkin buddies have got us pinned down," Bastia said. "They'd be shooting us full of arrows before we got in good range."

"Then we break out through the Smokowcy," Kasia declared.

Lillian dissented in a sharp hush, "That is insane! You saw what they did to two squads before; they'll slice us to pieces before we even get close."

An idea struck Kasia, "Not if we use the grenades the right way."

Bastia asked, "What's your idea?"

They listened intently as Kasia explained her plan.

"That's so crazy it just might work," Bastia agreed. "Let's do it; it's not like we have anything to lose."

Kasia and Bastia opened their grenade bags, handing two grenades to Lillian, and one each to Katja and dark-skinned Leon. This left them two apiece. Kasia lit one as she walked out of the group towards Iron Claw.

Iron Claws, clearly misunderstanding the weapon's abilities, scoffed, "You think fireworks are enough to scare me?"

Kasia replied, "No, but this might!"

She flung the lit Hellenic grenade towards Iron Claw's face with as much force as she could. It flew with stellar accuracy, and a moment later smashed into his face. A black liquid spread across it, and for a moment Kasia thought it had failed. But the fuse did its work, and suddenly it all began burning with furious power.

Iron Claw roared out in pain and distress, the sound truly deafening to Kasia's ears. He twisted around, frantically clawing at his face to get the burning liquid off. As he did so his tail whipped around and knocked over the two closest Smokowcy.

Bastia shouted, "Run for the gaps now!"

Kasia's heart had never been racing faster as they jumped into the confused, enraged mass of Dragonkin. They got past Iron Claws and the front rank easily enough, but further back the Smokowcy were still well-organized. Three charged towards the two squads with confidence until Lillian and Bastia hit two in the face with lit grenades. They bellowed in pain and confusion, frantically scratching the burning liquid off their faces as the third hesitated. The squads ran past, alternating throwing grenades with running like hell and dodging. Kasia noted as she looked back that Iron Claws had doused the flames, but he was still soothing his eyes as he growled orders at his shocked comrades.

Ahead of her Kasia saw Andrei carrying the unconscious, leg-less Katarzyna.

As a yet un-hit Smok nearby whipped its spike-topped tail around Kasia shouted, "Andrei, duck!"

He barely made it, and in retribution Kasia lit and used her last grenade. It hit the Smok on the shouder, which distracted it for a moment. The squads slipped past the last Smok, ran into the woods, the ground quaking behind them. Slayers however could usually outpace the massive Smokowcy, and this time was little different. They kept up the exhausting pace for another three hours until they finally they reached the relative safety of the massively fortified city of Dhaka.

* * *

Kasia was relieved to find that Katarzyna's life could be saved. She had just delivered her mission debriefing and report to the local commander, who was alarmed at Iron Claws' appearance and quickly ordered massive reinforcements. She returned to Dhaka's oldest stone citadel to find the whole squad waiting outside the hospital doors. Inside Kasia could sense James, who was still using yoki synchronization to re-grow Katarzyna's legs.

Katja nodded, "She's going to live."

"Well that's something I guess," Kasia sighed, leaning against the hallway's stone wall.

Seeing her beloved Katarzyna so horribly injured had been very traumatic. Lillian had taken it even worse; she'd lost all but James in her squad, and she had scarcely talked since coming back. Bastia had fared rather better, although she was not about to celebrate.

Katja, Andrei, Lewis, Aminata and the others of her squad had bunched together.

Kasia looked up, "Well, something you want to tell me?"

Katja looked at Lewis and then began, "We wanted to thank you… for saving our lives."

"It's alright Katja, there's no need for guilt," Kasia said, patting her on the arm.

"The whole squad nominated you to receive the Alliance Medal of Valor," Andrei explained. "If it wasn't for your leadership, everyone would be dead and they'd have discovered where those certain offspring you took were living. Thanks to your decisions not only did the whole squad survive but Iron Claw didn't get what he wanted."

Lewis eagerly barged in, "When are you going to tell us about the raid?"

Katja smacked him on the shoulder, "Lewis, that's enough! She would've said something if she were allowed to talk about it."

Lewis nursed his shoulder as Katja gave him a warning glance.

Kasia held up a hand, "I appreciate the—"

A moment later a trio of slayers rushed by, right into the hospital.

"Hold on a minute, I'm going to check this out," Kasia told the squad.

She followed the trio past numerous nurses and doctors until they came to Katarzyna's room. The group's female leader even knocked over a nurse in her way as they barged into the recuperating warrior's room.

Kasia had only just helped the nurse to her feet when she heard a smug, haughty female voice, "Well, well Katarzyna, looks like miss brilliant finally got shown for what she is: a bloody incompetent, weak bitch."

It took all of Kasia's self-control to resist drawing her blade with her left hand; she couldn't believe the nerve on this slayer to come in and insult a wounded comrade.

Katarzyna's room featured one narrow slit for a window. A number of flower pots decorated the room, along with get-well trinkets. Katarzyna was lying upright in bed, her legs having re-grown to just past her knees already. James was seated beside the bed while Katarzyna was eyeing the new arrival coldly. This slayer was a little shorter than Lillian, very athletic and toned, and had her hair arranged into a very long, ornately braided ponytail. Her skin was lily-white, and she had a scary beauty to her looks.

"It's been a long time, Commander McKenzie," Katarzyna coldly addressed her taunter. "I see your charm has only worsened with age."

Victoria sneered, "That's bold talk coming from someone who will never fight again."

Kasia shouted, "How dare you insult a wounded soldier!"

Lillian came walking into the doorway now, wide-eyed as she noticed the scene.

Victoria hardly spared her a glance, "I insult those who deserve it. Leading two squads into oblivion is hardly what I call leadership or strength!"

Lillian rushed forward to plead, "Victoria, please, don't blame her. It's my fault. During our last raid one of my favorites, Rafael, awakened so we could escape."

This was news to Kasia, as she assumed Rafael had been killed earlier during the nesting grounds mission.

Lillian got on her knees before Victoria, who seemed annoyed by the show of deference, "On this last mission, we were assigned to kill an Awakened Being, and I noticed it had his yoki. I was so eager to see him, even awakened, that I rushed into a forest without checking for an ambush. Commander Yushchenka was merely trying to catch up when we were ambushed, and I realized they captured him to lure us in."

"I see this is what your leadership amounts to Yushchenka; turning my former protégés into fodder for Dragonkin. When are you going to learn the only way to lead is through fear and strength?"

Kasia scoffed, "Fear and strength would not have gotten us out of that situation alive. Fear and strength did not guide my squad, nor were they used by the weapons designers we owe our lives to. We are alive thanks to ingenuity, the fact that our squads trusted and respected our orders, and knew how to follow those orders. You speak of strength and fear as if they can accomplish anything, but even the strongest slayer and her squad could not hope to win against Iron Claws, four dozen Smokowcy, and several thousand troops at the same time. The only sort of person who believes that is a fool."

Victoria was eyeing Kasia quite a bit more seriously now, "Your followers are as mouthy as ever I see Katarzyna."

"Unlike you Victoria, I appreciate commanders who can think on their own enough to rescue two squads from impossible odds without a single casualty. Kasia is being nominated for the Medal of Valor for it."

"I've got three of those myself. What's your name?"

Kasia was surprised Victoria even asked; McKenzie was a legend in the slayers corps, and not reputed to care about anyone other than those she regarded as peers and rivals.

"Kasia Romanowa," she replied curtly.

"I'll remember it for the next time," Victoria stated, and then leaned in close to whisper, "and the next time you feel like challenging me, be sure to pay a mortician beforehand."

"If you'd like to be executed for killing an entire squad, you can try," Kasia rebutted, not intimidated in the slightest.

"I'm far too valuable for that to happen, girl," Victoria whispered back.

"No one in this world is untouchable, even you," Kasia hissed back.

Victoria gave her a nasty look and proceeded out of the room, with Lillian following and obsequiously trying to ingratiate and apologize further. Kasia shook her head at this.

"What an ass," James commented when she was out of earshot.

"She used to be a lot more humble," Katarzyna sighed, "back when I was her commander. She eventually tired of my command style, challenged me to a duel, won, and hasn't looked back since. She's the only slayer besides Wenceslaus to have survived a direct fight with Iron Claws, so I don't want you challenging her Kasia."

"I'll try," Kasia sighed.

Yushchenka sat up, "Well Kasia, it will be goodbye for good soon enough. An offensive warrior like myself cannot re-grow anything other than human-strength legs. I'm afraid my days as a squad commander are over."

"It's not fair," Kasia said, a tear trickling down her cheek. "You're the best commander I have ever known. You deserve to have a command."

Katarzyna patted her hand, "Don't worry Kasia; I'm sure Antoni will gladly have me as his aide and personal bodyguard. Maybe I'll even learn a little about battlefield tactics and strategy. Besides, you may be even better a commander than I am."

There was an interrupting knock as Katja entered holding a letter, "I'm sorry, but this came for you Dowódca."

Kasia opened the letter and summarized it in shock, "I've been summoned to Visegrad."

* * *

"Kasia, you're looking as lovely as when you left," Prince Alexander complimented.

She obligingly let him chivalrously kiss her upon both cheeks, although it was hard to ignore Alexander's hands wandering down upon her ass.

The whole squad had been summoned in haste to Visegrad. Waiting to greet them was an exultant Alexander, who'd been happily watching the military ceremony where a Colonel awarded her the Medal of Valor. Their next orders were to report to him in the morning. Thus she was here, now in his personal quarters with the squad outside the door.

"I appreciate the compliments," Kasia blushed, his hands only belatedly leaving.

Alexander sat down upon his plush bed, "I've requested your squad act as my bodyguard detail. I hope you don't mind, but when Bastia wrote about your encounter with Iron Claws and Bahadur being after you, I had to help. Bastia was saying they couldn't afford to assign you on the front lines anymore, so being my bodyguard commander ought to work for you."

"Your Highness, that's very kind of you, but aren't twelve slayers a bit much for the protection of the fourth son in a royal family?"

Alexander wrote down a note, "Half of the squad will be reassigned to protect one of my elder brothers, but you can pick who stays."

Kasia, despite not seeing James, was rather relieved it was Alexander and not Bahadur who had arranged her next assignment. Besides, even if he was a little ass-grabby he was cute enough to make this tolerable.

"I just need you to do one more thing Kasia," Alexander stated.

"Which is?"

He walked over to hold her hands, "Wake up."

Suddenly she found herself staring at a petite female slayer with short hair and long bangs.

"She's coming out of the soul link," Alevtina said, glancing down with concern.

She blinked her eyes as she gingerly sat up in bed, "Where am I?"

Alevtina, wearing a black gown, sighed in relief, "You've just woken up from a soul-link, right where you were in Visegrad."

"Where's my sister?"

Alevtina looked bewildered, "Your sister?"

"Yes, where's Rima? I want to talk to her."

She rubbed her eyes as the room only slowly came into focus.

Alevtina shook her head, "Rima is not your sister!"

"Yes, she is."

Alevtina stood firm, "No, she's not. You are Dietrich Tuluzy, not Princess Kasia!"

"I am Kasia Romanowa, and my sister is Rima Romanowa," she told Alevtina flatly.

Alevtina gulped, "If you believe that, then there's something you should see."

Alevtina handed her a mirror, which she held up. Staring back at her was a stranger; the face of a petite slayer with diagonal bangs, two ponytails, and freckles was staring back at her. Dietrich let out a scream in horror.


	13. Chapter 12: An Unexpected Betrayal

**Chapter 12: An Unexpected Betrayal**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**A large number of scholars make the mistake of only concentrating upon the effects of the superpower rivalry on Toulouse's politics. What many have missed is the huge effects the contact with the outside world had upon Toulousan society. Even in the largest and most advanced city of Rabona, technology was more than 200 years behind that of the continent. Gunpowder was unheard of in Toulouse, as were glasses, mirrors, mobile cannons, or manufactured goods.**

**This had an enormous effect on the wealth of the merchant lords in Rabona's plutocratic ruling body, the Council of Lords. The technological shock was startling to the merchant lords; a number of them were forced into new businesses by new imports. Worse still, foreign merchants seemed far more adept at business than they were. Fear of being dominated by foreigners and losing their fortunes turned them towards growing protectionism.**

**It was into this discomfort, fear, jealousy, and political unease that Phantom Miria made a startling announcement. The Royal Toulouse Mining Company, which Miria and a few comrades owned, began selling diamonds. The timing could not have been worse; it came at the same time the island's wool producers had nearly been run out of business. The gnashing of teeth must have been palpable as Miria and her silver-eyed friends' wealth skyrocketed.**

**The rising wealth and power of the island's witches struck a raw political nerve as well. When Miria pressured Bishop Vincent to make her the commanding officer of Rabona's army, it was only with reluctance that he accepted. He feared that handing so much power to witches would mean they could take over. Ironically it was his human rivals that toppled the church, although Miria condoned the coup. Lord Mayor Zaehringen, despite owing his power to Miria, never truly trusted his dynamic, idealistic subordinate.**

**She had been steadily rising in rank and commanded an increasingly powerful army, so Zaehringen was only too aware she had the personal authority to order his ouster. Miria never did hatch a coup attempt, but this mattered little to Zaehringen. In the space of a short period of time, her diamond mine turned her into the wealthiest person on the island. It was at this time that Lautrec and the Dominion unified into the Kingdom of Toulouse. It was opposed by Miria, which in turn only reinforced Zaehringen's suspicions of her motives. The new constitutional monarchs wasted no time playing on Zaehringen's fears of Miria.**

**They discovered a foolish campaign by several of Miria's silver-eyed friends and her adoptive daughter to have the General made monarch by public acclaim. Queen Violetta and King Philippe forged almost all claymores names of onto the Monarchist League's membership list, which their agent had acquired. When it was anonymously passed on to Zaehringen, he ordered the arrest of every warrior in the army. Miria was now out of their way, the only thing in the Grand Alliance's way now being the Romanow Empire's agents…**

* * *

"So, which one hits first?"

Alexander held out the two metal balls, one in each hand. Svelte, tall Kasia was observing him from a luxurious black-leather chair, twirling her wavy blond hair with her left hand. She was wearing a tight black leather outfit that hugged her figure magnificently in his opinion. They were in his sumptuous quarters, the warm sun shining upon them as he stood holding the two metal balls before her. Beside him were two small sandboxes to catch the balls as they fell.

"Since you asked," Kasia sniffed in bemusement, "I think the heavier one will hit the floor first."

"Only one way to be sure," Alexander replied.

He dropped both balls, each of them hitting the sand box on the marble floor below at the same time.

Kasia's smile changed into a frown of confusion, "I wasn't expecting that."

"I told you not to pre-judge," he lectured.

"You already knew the answer to your question, didn't you?"

Kasia sat up; his eyes level with her lips. It was her greater height that caused him discomfort, something Kasia, who commanded his bodyguard detail, had been quick to notice. This difference in height caused discomfort because he hadn't taken her on for her fighting skills. They were impressive though; she'd single-handedly led two squads past over fifty enraged Dragonkin thanks to her ingenious use of his Hellenic grenades.

He'd taken on Kasia because she had intrigued him. The tall witch had managed to grasp the basics of calculus when he'd first met her, which was amazing considering her relative lack of schooling. There was also her svelte body and the way she moved around in the same silent, silky manner of a cat. When his twin sister Bastia mentioned Kasia needed a protector from the perverted, psychotic Sultan Bahadur, he had jumped at the chance to take her on as his bodyguard. She was actually a lot more than just a bodyguard however…

"Your mind's wandering again Your Highness," Kasia pointed out.

"Just thinking about how lovely you look," Alexander replied.

"I'm not in the mood for making love," Kasia stated flatly.

She walked off a short ways towards a lovely nymph fountain and dipped a hand into the water within, sighing. Even when dressed in plain black leather and looking depressed he couldn't help but find her attractive. She was smart, had nice curves, great hair, and most of all, she was his mistress. He could take her just about any time he wanted, which was often.

Alexander's jaw slackened, "Kasia, dear, come on, can't we have just a little fun?"

Alexander walked behind Kasia and wrapped his arms around her neck as he the top of her lovely head. He moved his lips down her body, kissing her neck as he grasped her firm breasts, which he massaged. As he did so she uttered an almost inaudible moan of pleasure.

"How about a little 'hide the salami'?"

Kasia knocked his hands off her bosom, "What part of 'no' don't you understand?"

This was definitely a first; while Kasia had been getting more assertive of late, she had never refused him sex.

"But—"

Kasia rounded on him, "I gave up a man I loved for you, Your Highness."

He knew she was mad now; Kasia only used his royal title when she was miffed.

Alexander tossed up his hands, "Kasia, you've told me this before but—"

"I'm tired of being treated like a mere mistress," Kasia snapped. "All we ever do is work on your projects together or make love; there's never any 'us' time."

"Are you trying to say you don't love me?"

"Quit being an idiot, Alexander," Kasia snapped.

Kasia was staring very intently into his eyes as he sat down atop the nearby granite fountain's retaining wall.

Alexander grumbled, "Why am I an idiot?"

"Because I would've gone over to Sultan Bahadur two years ago if I didn't care about you," Kasia sighed. "I've spent three years of my life dedicated to making you happy, and I think it's about time you did something for me."

"Kasia, if I spent more time with you, my mother would find out and go ballistic," he reasoned. "I'm trying to protect you from—"

"I don't need that kind of protection Alexander," Kasia sniffed. "I'm a 23-year-old warrior who's survived an ambush from the Vice Chieftain of the draconic tribe. Katja, Andrei and the others will protect me from harm anyways, so you need to stop worrying about your mother. It's not healthy for an 18-year-old man to fear his own mother."

Alexander clutched her hand, "No, it really is."

"You'll forgive me if I don't fear the queen like you do," Kasia stated. "Besides, she has three older sons in line to the throne, so I don't see why you're so worried. We've been having sex for three years, and if she cared, she would have noticed."

"The last time my older brother Stefan screwed around with a mistress—"

Kasia got up and rushed off, clearly ticked off. Alexander scrambled after her as she opened the doors to his library. The Bengali-descent warrior Katja looked up in surprise from her chair as Kasia strode past. His immense, multi-level, baroque-style library was painted and decorated in hews of white and gold. Kasia, black leather, sword and all stuck out, as did the surprised and identically dressed Katja.

"Kasia, I swear, whatever I said I take it back," Alexander pleaded, rushing before her.

Kasia stomped her left foot, "Is that what I am to you, a mistress?"

"I didn't mean you, I swear it Kasia," Alexander apologized.

Kasia pointed to the prominent numbers 3141 that had over a decade before been branded upon her left cheek, "When I volunteered to fight on the behalf of our alliance, I was branded and treated like I was some form of warring cattle, Your Highness. I am a person, not some sort of thing you can just make love to and not appreciate. I think you'll forgive me if I withhold sex for a month to make my point."

Alexander noticed Katja stuck with her mouth open and then abruptly turning away, sheepish and embarrassed by what she was seeing. She walked out of the room.

Alexander tried his best to soothe her temper, "Dear, I know your kind has been mistreated, but—"

"I came to you because Bastia said I needed someone to protect me. I was supposed to be your bodyguard, and now all I do is assist on your experiments and spread my legs whenever you want. I'm doomed to a life of being a mistress," Kasia stated, averting her eyes away.

"Kasia, you're not a mistress, you're my lover," Alexander soothed.

"Then why don't you treat me like one?"

Alexander sighed, "Kasia—"

Kasia stared him in the eyes and said with an edge in her voice, "Name the last time we dined at a fine restaurant or you let me sleep in your bed overnight. Field Marshal Poniatowski takes out Katarzyna to fine restaurants every week, he buys her jewelry, takes her on vacations, shares his bed when he's away from his wife, and—"

Alexander held up his hands, "Who is Katarzyna?"

"She's a silver-eyed slayer who works as Poniatowski's military aide," Kasia replied. "I already told you no sex for a month, so why are you still bothering me?"

"No sex for a month? Come on Kasia, I wasn't behaving that badly," he reasoned.

"I am not going to be compared to your brother Stefan's women," Kasia snapped, "he had orgies with multiple mistresses, and objecting to me getting better treatment with what happened in his case really ticks me off."

Alexander fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her legs, "I'm sorry, dear, I'm sorry. I'll give you what you want, just please, don't leave me."

"I never said I would leave you," Kasia sighed. "Alright, I'll take back my threat on two conditions. The first is from now on I share your bed every night, and the second is we go shopping this afternoon."

"Shopping?"

"I want some more clothes," Kasia explained, tapping her black leather outfit.

"Alright," he agreed as Kasia hoisted him to his feet.

Almost immediately she leaned in and they shared an intensely passionate kiss.

He pulled back and gasped, "I thought you were mad."

"I was, but you've made me happier," Kasia stated as she reached down and grasped him through the trousers. "When we get back I'll show you the greatest game of 'hide the salami' you've ever had as a thank-you."

Her mouth rushed to embrace his when there was a loud clawing.

Alexander found himself jolted awake, heart pounding, his passionate memories interrupted by reality. It appeared to be early morning, as the sun was just creeping into the room through the window, the song of birds chirping outside. He checked around the bedroom he'd been given since being exiled to… well, wherever here was.

The bedroom had a fine, elegant décor, with white and gold wallpaper, several candle mounts, a single large dresser, and even a mirror above it. Alexander held a hand to his head; despite everything that had happened he was still fantasizing about her. Not just fantasizing, but his memories were of their every moment together.

"There's something wrong with me," he sighed, hanging his head, "I still want her."

He had never intended Kasia to be a bodyguard; instead she'd been taking scientific notes for him, helping him conduct experiments, assisting on artistic projects, doing math for engineering projects, and of course, having sex whenever he asked. Actually he'd never had intercourse with a girl before her, but Kasia wasn't a normal girl, she was a slayer. A prince, his brother Stefan had said with a wink, could order a slayer to do whatever they wanted. At the time he was just a naïve 15-year-old boy, and an infatuated one at that. He had hesitatingly asked Kasia if they could make love sometime.

Kasia hadn't taken it as a question; she'd immediately got undressed and advised him on how to "take her". He couldn't quite believe his luck; Stefan had been completely right. What followed were twenty of the most enthralling minutes of his life. Afterwards, whatever he requested Kasia did for him. But over time it had become less of a mistress-master relationship and more of a secret affair of equals. After three years of giving him everything he wanted, she'd finally gotten annoyed at not getting much in return. And that, of course, was when everything had slowly gone out of control…

The result of which was he was now exiled by his former lover to this strange island. He'd almost immediately been killed by strange monsters, and then saved by two slayers. He had tried to die before being shamefully saved by her followers, but had been unable to manage it. For his efforts he'd been berated by a busty witch with corn-row hair who seemed to have a temper problem. He had thought they were Kasia's followers, but their language was unlike anything he'd ever heard and they had different mannerisms than mainland slayers.

The only thing he seemed to pick up was the city's name: Rabona. He'd been led and then bullied into coming into an urban manor by the busty witch from earlier. He hadn't seen her since, but he was happy he hadn't. The last thing he needed was to see more of Kasia's murderous kind. He heard the clawing again; it was obviously coming from the door.

He put on a white shirt, some bizarre red-and-white pantaloons, and then strapped on black boots. He walked over to the fine wood door and opened it; he jumped back in surprise. A baby tiger walked right past him; it was bigger than the largest domesticated cat. In the room's sunny corner was a plush circular bed fluffed full of feathers. The cat immediately jumped in, yawned, and fell asleep.

Alexander muttered, "What kind of crazy person keeps a tiger as a pet?"

* * *

Natalie rushed to the top of the hill and spotted something reassuring: a large town not flying the Kingdom of Toulouse's flag. It was beautifully situated atop a hill, a set of modest brick walls marking its idyllic edges. Perched atop a large hill, the large town looked out on a lush green landscape of gravel roads lined by poplar trees, olive groves, rustic farmland, and an abbey far below in the nearby river valley.

Helen arrived a second later, huffing in exhaustion, "You're too bloody fast. I don't know what happened when you were in Miria's body, but you sure picked up her speed and endurance."

Renée arrived wearing one of Helen's old black-leather, form-fitting outfits, "We lost the cavalry, so we're safe for now. The others will be here in a few minutes. Is that Malaga?"

Helen sighed, "Yeah, that's Malaga."

"Looks nice," Renée complimented.

"That's what Deneve once said," Helen sighed.

Natalie shyly asked, "Are you okay, Aunt Helen?"

Helen yelled, "No, I am not bloody okay, Natalie! We're outlaws running from our own country and Miria's been arrested. What part of that sounds okay?"

"But mom would never let them put her to death," Natalie pointed out.

It was at this moment that the curly-haired Anastasia ran up trailed by over two dozen witches and said, "Oh, finally, I thought we'd never get to safety."

"I want to know what the fuck is going on," a coif-haired witch shouted.

Helen rounded on the shorter warrior, "You want to know Camilla? All I know is Zaehringen betrayed us—"

A number of other, low-ranked warriors began shouting now, "If it was betrayal, then why all of a sudden?"

"Why didn't he arrest Claire, Galatea or Raki?"

Another further back asked, "What's really going on?"

Several shouted, "Why were we accused of being part of the Monarchist League?"

Renée guffawed, "You were accused of being part of the Monarchist League?"

Anastasia sniffed, "Yes, I distinctly remember being told by the men sent to arrest me that I was under arrest for being part of it. They also told me that you were its president, Renée !"

A shout of outrage rose up from many of the other claymores as all eyes turned on Renée , who was backing away from her irate comrades.

A thin witch with an attractive face and tall, immense hairbun walked in between Renée and those irate at her.

"Hold on, it isn't like what you think," Valencia shouted. "We never meant to do anything against Zaehringen or the state."

"Oh this is good, so now it's all coming out," Camilla mocked. "If what you and Renée were doing wasn't bad, then why is Zaehringen sending the army after us?"

"We founded the Monarchist League to garner public support for Miria becoming queen," Helen broke in.

"It was supposed to be peaceful," Tabitha said quietly.

Camilla looked incredulous, "What, a peaceful coup?"

Natalie broke in, "We weren't planning a coup!"

Anastasia shook her head, "I find that hard to believe considering Zaehringen's reaction. Just how many of us were in on this plan, hmm?"

Natalie held up a hand, as did pigtailed Alexandra, tall Matilda, Helen, Valencia, Tabitha, and Renée .

"Fucking unbelievable," Camilla hissed, "this is just fucking unbelievable. What the hell were the six of you thinking?"

"Oh come on, Camilla, you make it sound like Miria would be worse than the current monarchs," Matilda pointed out.

One claymore hissed, "I didn't rebel against the Organization and fight for Rabona just to see you six install Miria as a dictator!"

Tabitha puffed up in outrage, "How dare you say that, Nike! A queen is not the same as a dictator, and it's Miria, so she'd be infinitely better than who we have now!"

Nike scoffed, "An absolute monarch is a dictator you moron!"

Tabitha landed a punch on Nike that drew blood. Helen and Renée frantically held back Tabitha as Anastasia held Nike back.

Natalie tried to speak up, "Guys, we have to go back and get mom out of prison."

No one heard her; they were much too busy shouting, yelling, holding back others, or threatening one another. She could only put a hand over her face in despair as she watched the witches become their own worst enemies.

* * *

Alexander caught a glimpse of himself in a full-length mirror. He looked a little bizarre with the red-and-white puffy pantaloons around his waist. Red tights covered his legs, and a nice, long-sleeved white shirt completed the look. He noticed his brown hair was beginning to recede along his forehead.

"Ah hell," Alexander groaned, "That's the last thing I needed."

He took to wandering around the nice but compact manor, with maidservants and cooks walking past him in the halls with scarcely a glance. He found a small study room looking out on the street. He was just about to sit down in the room's sole large blue-and-gold armchair when a ponytailed man in fine blue-and-white clothes rushed past the door. Alexander got up in curiosity as the man began to loudly speak in the hallway.

The man's voice rose, "Je lui ai déjà dit que Miria n'a rien à voir avec cette Ligue Monarchiste. Mais peu importe ce que je lui dis, je n'arrive pas à changer l'avis de Zaehringen."

Alexander hung back when he noticed three slayers, two female and one male. One of the females was dressed in the elaborate white-and-gold robes of a high-ranking priest. She was tall and wore her hair just down to her shoulders underneath her pointed hat. The shorter female witch wore her hair in a bob, and seemed to be very intently listening to the ponytailed man. Looming over all three was a very tall, well-built male slayer with spiky blond hair.

It was the tall male slayer who spoke up, "Mais a-t-elle participé à ce complot?"

The ponytailed man snapped, "Je connais ma femme, Raki, et je sais Miria n'était pas impliqué. Le vieux salaud pense que Miria est coupable jusqu'à preuve de son innocence."

He turned around and was followed down some stairs at the hall's end by the three slayers, two of whom appeared to be a couple. He warily turned back to the bookshelves in the well-appointed room and came across a title that caught his attention. It was a book with its title printed in Comnenian: "Learning Toulousaine".

He flipped the red book open atop a coffee table; it was exactly what he needed. It was a guide on learning the native language. He was just beginning to enjoy reading it when he noticed a map. It showed a massive mainland continent, divided between the Alliance of Nations and Grand Alliance; he sighed at it being out-of-date. A large island just one hundred kilometers off-shore was marked: "Kingdom of Breton". He knew he clearly wasn't in Breton, as the people here did not speak Bretonese.

It was when he looked towards the Great Sea's center, where no land should have existed. Instead he found a sizable island shaped like a four-pointed star; at its center was a city named Rabona. He blinked in disbelief and saw that it was labeled "Toulouse".

"I don't believe it… she really did exile me," Alexander commented to himself.

He sat down to read the book, which would help him learn the local language and a little about its people. A chorus of yelling approached, and to no surprise the three slayers from earlier were walking by and arguing about something. They walked into a room down the hall but continued to deafen him with their disagreements. He gave up trying to read and walked down the manor's stairs.

Eventually he reached the ground floor and decided on taking a walk around the block. He passed numerous oblivious maidservants and walked right out the door into blinding sunlight.

* * *

Rubel noticed a young man exit the Malaga Manor. He was well-dressed but looked and moved like a foreigner as he shielded his eyes from the strong sunlight. Rubel didn't know who the young man with the receding hairline was, but it didn't matter. Whoever he was there was no way he could stop the plans about to go down. The foreigner walked down the manor's steps and into the crowds, half walking, half reading, turned a corner, and was soon out of sight.

Rubel had concealed himself in a fully-enclosed wooden wagon, and was looking out the window in relative security. He could not publicly reveal himself so close to the manor; Claire, Galatea, and Raki knew his profile too well to chance walking in public. As he watched the Malaga family manor, a familiar young maidservant with a red ponytail walked out. She spotted the wagon, immersed herself in the crowd, and then headed out of his sight.

A moment later the wagon's door opened and the woman nodded as she clambered in.

Rubel dipped his hat as he swiveled his chair, "Good to see you again, agent Katrin."

Katrin grabbed the wagon's plain spare chair and delicately saw down in her long green dress, "Master Louvre, I'm afraid I won't have the intelligence report from the manor ready until tomorrow. Bishop Galatea and the de Lautrec family have just shown up to talk about something important. If you can give me some time, I can get you a summary of their remarks and—"

Rubel held up a hand, "Your dedication to duty is to be commended, Katrin. However, I'm not here for a report."

Katrin's bushy eyebrows rose, "Then what are you here for sir?"

Rubel took a deep breath, "I've received orders from higher-up; they want Raki, Claire and Galatea out of our way."

"Sir, with all due respect," Katrin objected, "I don't think we have any assets capable of killing any of them. Since I infiltrated Phantom Miria's household, I've seen Raki and Claire practice with the general. The way they move it would take at least four, probably more Dragonkin to kill both of them. Their reaction times are also incredible, so no matter how powerful the crossbow chances are they would deflect it and our work would be for nought."

Rubel chuckled, "We're not going to use either of those methods to get rid of them."

Katrin's non-descript face creased in confusion, "Then what are we using?"

Rubel grabbed a phial off a nearby ledge of clear liquid, "Lord Ambassador von Rundstedt wants it to look like a suicide."

Katrin's confusion was evident in her response, "Sir, I hate to point this out, but poisons are not effective against slayers. As soon as any of them gets a sip of the liquid we—"

Rubel couldn't help but grin, "This isn't a poison, it's a sedative."

Katrin was wide-eyed, "That sounds brilliant, but how well does it work?"

Rubel grinned, "My sources tell me that this dose is enough to put a full-grown claymore into a coma. To be safe I acquired a supply of six doses. The sedative is tasteless, so don't worry about them detecting it beforehand. I want you to return to the manor and serve the three of them drinks. They should be unconscious within five minutes if they drink the whole thing, longer if they drink less. You will then put these notes in their hands."

Katrin read the notes, "Suicide notes?"

Rubel adjusted his sunglasses, "Remember that Monarchist League's list of members you stole for us?"

Katrin grinned, "How could I not? It was the highlight of my espionage career, sir."

Rubel explained, "We forged the names of almost all other claymores onto that list; all except for Claire, Raki and Galatea. Thanks to your efforts and my own, we have Lord Mayor Zaehringen convinced that there was a silver-eyed plot against him. The fact that all of the warriors in the army except Miria and Virginia fled arrest has only further convinced him they're traitors. Right now he's paranoid and thinks every witch is out to get him. When Claire, Raki, and Galatea turn up dead with suicide notes acknowledging their part in the plot, Zaehringen will be too blind to see what's really going on."

* * *

Galatea was trying her best to be patient with Claire, but it was difficult to be patient with Claire. After all, Claire was the one who had gloatingly mentioned her children whenever she was in earshot. To make matters worse, Claire was pregnant again, a fact that couldn't help but remind Galatea of her own miscarriage. But most maddeningly was Claire's total lack of remorse for shaving her head.

"As far as I care, we have nothing to say to each other," Claire snapped.

They were seated across the table from each other, with Claire's fine velvet dress contrasting with Galatea's white and gold robes. Raki was seated at the head of the table dressed in a steel cuirass, fine black cloak, puffy white shirt, and brown trousers. Raki flinched upon hearing his wife dig her heels in.

"Dear, I know you and Galatea have your issues, but—"

Claire rounded on him, "Where were you when she described our children as illegitimate bastards?"

"Claire, as annoyed at Galatea as I was about that, now is not the time to be settling old scores," he reminded.

"I don't see why I shouldn't settle scores with this home wrecker," Claire hissed.

"Because all of our warrior comrades have either been arrested or fled Rabona," Raki pointed out, "I fear there's something going on we don't know about."

"I fear this home wrecker riding my husband like a bucking bronco again," Claire hissed.

Galatea couldn't let that slide, "I had no idea you two were a pair at that point, and besides, you weren't even married at the time!"

Claire was about to explode when a red-haired maidservant entered the room carrying drinks on a circular metal tray. She stopped in mid-pace seeing Claire get up out of her seat. Instead of lashing out Claire took a deep breath and looked out the meeting room's window. It did not have a good view of anything but other rooftops behind Miria's manor.

"Sorry to intrude, but I brought your tea," the maidservant said.

She set the tray down quietly and quickly left the art-adorned room. Galatea grabbed a glass of steaming green tea and politely sipped, as did Raki. Claire looked back as soon as the maidservant had closed the door.

Claire said in a low, intense voice, "After what you did that's your excuse? How could you not have known about our relationship?"

"Raki didn't tell me," Galatea replied.

Claire looked about ready to explode again when her toddler twins opened the door. They had obviously grown since Galatea had last seen them, as both were walking at a good pace. Their cheeks weren't as chubby as they used to be, but they were too young to see big resemblances to either of their parents yet. Wearing puffy blue dresses, the two blond, messy-haired toddlers ambled into the room.

The boy, Victor, spotted his mother and happily yelled, "Mama!"

In an instant Claire's angry face melted away, "Come here honey."

Victor gleefully jumped into his mother's lap, an act Galatea rather doubted most boys at his age could match. Teresa for her part was nagging her father to pick her up.

"Please papa," little Teresa said, jumping up and down.

"Oh alright," Raki agreed, pulling her up and onto his shoulders.

Once gleefully atop her father's shoulders she looked down at their tea, "Papa, you should drink your tea!"

Raki smiled, "And who told you about drinking tea?"

"Katrin said you drink tea before it gets cold," Teresa said.

"Now Teresa honey, what if we want to talk until it gets cold?"

"NO!"

Galatea for once had to smile; Teresa's insistence on tea drinking was quite cute.

"Drink tea is good," Teresa continued, prodding her father.

"Alright, alright, we'll drink our tea," Raki grinned, giving in.

The three adults, under Teresa's insistent, cute prodding, took their tea cups and drank.

Teresa looked at Galatea and giggled, "Mommy cut your hair!"

Galatea swallowed her impulse to strangle Claire and politely smiled. She silently made a note that whenever the chance arose, god willing, she would get her hairy revenge. Just thinking about Claire with a shaven head was enough to put her anger behind.

Teresa and Victor scrambled off their parents and rushed out the room.

"Don't disturb the maids dears," Raki yelled after the silver-eyed twins.

"Ok, Papa," Teresa said, and with a skip in her step ran off after her brother.

"Oh," Raki yawned, "they're just adorable. Makes me happy I became a father."

Galatea found herself yawning as well, although Claire seemed still alert.

"I think we need to bury our problems as long as…" Galatea paused to yawn, "Miria's under arrest. There's something not quite right. Miria isn't the type to plot against—"

"Yes she is," Claire said, sleepily. "She flaunts her wealth, she likes power, she…"

Claire had to stop to yawn, her eyelids blinking rapidly.

"I feel so tired," Claire commented. "What kind of tea did we get?"

Galatea noticed Raki nodding off, "Raki?"

A moment later Raki's head hit the table as Claire screamed out. Claire tried to hoist him up but she was becoming ever more sluggish as she turned frantic.

Claire stumbled, and fell head-first towards the hard brick floor. Galatea, who hadn't lost her coordination entirely, dived and saved Claire's head from hitting the floor.

Galatea yelled, "Claire?"

Claire had fallen unconscious already, and Galatea realized in alarm something must have been put in their drink. Galatea looked at her tea and realized it was because she had only drunk half of hers that she wasn't unconscious already.

She tried to get up but her mind was too groggy to walk, as she fell flat on her face as soon as she tried to walk.

In panic, Galatea managed to yell, "Victor, Teresa!"

She could feel her eyelids getting heavier, but she had to keep up her effort.

"Teresa!"

Galatea heard a pattering of feet in the distance as she pulled herself towards the door with her arms. The door opened and Claire's eldest, chubby-cheeked Teresa, stood blinking in confusion at her.

Teresa clearly didn't understand what was going on as she said, "You're funny!"

"Teresa, something's…wrong," Galatea managed, sleep nearly taking her.

Innocent-eyed Teresa blinked at the scene of nearly unconscious Galatea and her unconscious parents, "Wrong? Mama, Papa?"

Galatea managed to say, "Find help!"

Teresa rushed over to Raki and began tugging on his collar, "Papa? Papa, this isn't funny! Papa? Papa!"

Raki fell to the floor at Teresa's tugging, which caused her to shriek in fright.

Galatea managed one last gasp, "Teresa, find help!"

Teresa blinked uncertainly, fear on her face, "Help?"

"Help…"

Galatea could fight sleep no longer, her eyes just noticing the tears on Teresa's ruddy cheeks as her eyes began to close. Her last alarming thought was that Teresa might not know what the word 'help' meant.

* * *

Alexander was trying to practice his bonjour and other greetings to himself but there was a rather annoying problem: people. The streets were bustling, full of shops, horse-drawn carriages, and lots of curious onlookers at his efforts practicing their language. He had sat down on a wood bench around the corner from the manor where he was staying. His practicing had originally gone unnoticed until a small group of teenage girls heard his efforts and began giggling at his efforts. Their giggling had attracted a steadily growing crowd of gawkers.

"Remind me to laugh at your efforts to pronounce my language some time, you twits," he snapped at the girls.

Their laughter abruptly stopped, and not enjoying the awkward silence surely brought by the language gap, he left. Since he didn't know the area, he had no choice but to head back to the manor. He couldn't help but hope the three yelling slayers had left or shut up. He saw a red-headed maidservant from the manor pass by. He turned to look, but somehow she had already blended into the crowd and disappeared.

Alexander walked up the manor's stairs and knocked on the front door. After waiting awhile and not hearing anyone coming, he opened the door. It opened into a nearly silent manor; in fact there was not a soul in sight.

He remembered his language lessons and included a word from the native's language, "Bonjour? Hello? Anyone home?"

Now that was odd, he reflected. He had been gone barely twenty minutes and everyone seemed to have left. Something felt decidedly very, very off.

He walked up the first staircase shouting, "Bonjour? Can anyone hear me?"

A pattering of footsteps above caused his heart to skip a beat. Had someone been murdered and he had missed their entrance? What if that murderer was coming down the stairs now? Alexander began stepping backwards down the stairs as he made out two distinct patters of footfall rushing downstairs at a furious pace.

"Who's there?"

Alexander edged back towards the door, jumping off the stairs and towards the safety of the public streets. He was about to jump out of the manor entirely when two toddlers came rushing down the stairs.

One was a little girl, and the other he guessed to be her brother. Both of them looked frantic as they rushed down the stairs. The little girl was going too fast and tripped. In horror Alexander saw her flip end over end towards the bottom of the stairs. He rushed to catch her before her head hit the floor. He just barely made it, the little girl's cheeks streaming with tears.

He gasped, "Are you okay?"

The little girl grasped his hand and looked up at him, "Aide papa!"

"I don't understand you," Alexander said in Comnenian.

The children were too upset to show much confusion as the little boy grabbed his puffy shirt sleeve and began exerting a powerful tug. He seemed unusually strong for just a toddler, and it was when Alexander looked in the little boy's eyes that he understood why. He gasped and fell backwards; the little boy was a silver-eyed monster.

The little boy rushed back to him despite his fearful scrambling, "Mama a besoin d'aide!"

"I'm not a friend of slayers," Alexander declared.

He might as well been speaking to a wall; neither of the twins seemed to understand a word and kept pestering him. Both of them were tugging insistently on his sleeves, their eyes filling with tears. They made a pitiable sight, and it was hard to remain afraid of them.

Alexander got up, "Now look, I can't help you."

The little girl was bawling now as she pleaded, "Aide papa!"

Alexander gulped at he looked up the stairs; the first thought that struck him was that perhaps their parents had been brutally murdered. If so no doubt the murderer was upstairs and anyone capable of murdering slayers was not someone he wanted to take on, even if armed. He however was not armed and had never been a soldier.

The twins were tugging him towards the stairs even as he leaned back.

"I think you should get someone else," Alexander stammered.

_"Spoken like the true coward you are, Alexander,"_ a familiar female voice said.

It was Kasia's voice in his head, and Alexander knew only too well where he had been when he had heard it. It was during the day when the High Command was overthrown.

The boy was now pushing him towards the stairs with the girl tugging.

_"You had three years to bring your mother to justice, and you cowardly did nothing,"_ Kasia's voice rang in his head. _"You lost my love when you stood there and did nothing; that's all you're capable of Alexander, fiddling in indecision while atrocities occur."_

Alexander swallowed his fear as best he could; he certainly wasn't going to prove Kasia right a second time around. He gingerly crept up the stairs as the twins tugged on his arms with surprising strength as they quit bawling. Up he went to the second floor, but there was no one in sight but the twins. They were still nagging and pulling on him, so he kept going, his heart beat skyrocketing as they continued.

He eventually reached the third floor, where he had been reading until the argument of three adult slayers. He had a strong suspicion that these twin toddlers were the children of the slayer couple arguing with the witch-turned-priest. There wasn't even a peep when they arrived on the third floor. He passed by a portrait of the ponytailed man he had seen leaving earlier; probably the manor's owner he guessed.

The little boy raced ahead as the girl kept pulling him forward. The little boy pushed a partly open door wide open.

Alexander gasped, "Oh god, what's happened?"

The slayer couple was sprawled out in their chairs, with the back of the male slayer's chair smashed against the floor. His thin, much shorter wife was similarly unconscious, but it appeared she had been toppled from her chair onto her side. The female priest, a tall woman, was sprawled out on the floor, her left arm extended towards the door in a futile gesture. Upon the table were three tea cups, all emptied except for one, which was half empty and steaming.

Alexander called out to the hallway, "Is anyone else home?"

There was no answer; the bustling house of only twenty minutes earlier was silent but for the twins' nagging. He took a deep breath and swallowed his disgust with treating any of Kasia's kind; the twins wouldn't understand his refusal to treat their parents. They were around three years old after all.

He turned back to the three adult slayers and felt for a pulse on the female priest. After a moment he found one, and quickly discovered pulses on the couple. With the twins still tearing up and clearly misunderstanding their parents to be dead, Alexander decided he had to show them otherwise. He took the little girl's arm and put it on her father's neck where his pulse could be felt. Her eyes bulged and she started smacking his chest, clearly thinking he was just asleep.

She jostled her father's hair, but his eyes remained closed as she yelled, "Réveille-toi papa! Papa, réveille-toi!"

"He's been drugged," Alexander said, patting the little girl's shoulder.

The sound of clapping hands behind him jolted Alexander around. Standing behind him was a strange man in a wide-brimmed black hat, black sunglasses, an all-black outfit, and a black cloak. He was not particularly tall, but he was standing in the frame of the open window.

"A most astute observation, young man," the man said in accented Comnenian.

The twins seemed terrified of the new arrival, each of them rushing behind Alexander and clutching his legs. To be entirely fair his courage wasn't faring much better, particularly once he noticed that man had a short sword sheath attached to his belt.

Alexander hissed back in Comnenian, "Who the hell are you?"

The strange man adjusted his glasses and sniffed in amusement, "I might ask you the same thing. Tragically I don't have time to small talk."

The man took out his short sword in his right hand.

"You're despicable," Alexander hissed.

The man sniffed, "There's nothing despicable about being a dutiful patriot for one's country by killing silver-eyed warriors."

"You cheated and put them to sleep," Alexander pointed out.

The man unsheathed his sword and said, "They would kill me if I fought fair, so that's not much incentive to do so, now is it? It is regretful I must kill my former protégé and her children, but war calls for drastic actions."

Alexander edged backwards with the toddlers clutching his legs in terror as the man approached.

"It is a shame we could not speak longer," the man declared, "but I cannot afford witnesses to my actions."

Alexander belatedly realized this agent meant to kill him as well when a ray of sunlight poured in through the open window. It fell upon the agent, and then there was a sudden whistling sound. The agent twisted his head to the side and belatedly jerked his right hand up to shield his face. He uttered a curse of pain; a crossbow bolt had penetrated his forearm and gotten stuck. It had however stopped just centimeters away from the man's eye.

The man staggered for a moment before grabbing at something on his belt. He flicked something white out of a pouch with his uninjured arm. It hit the ground and exploded in a giant, opaque cloud of white smoke. Alexander shielded his eyes and began hacking as the smoke filtered into his lungs.

The twins were hacking as well, and he tried his best to reassure the screaming toddlers when the smoke began to clear. Alexander noticed a pair of steel combat boots landing atop the window sill and looked up and turned pale. Standing in the window was one of the most feared individuals on the planet: a silver-eyed assassin. This one was of average stature and wore white pants, brown combat robes complete with a hood, and their face up to the nose was covered by a brown scarf.

Only the male slayer's eerie eyes were visible as he quickly observed the room. He noticed the three unconscious slayers propped up against the wall to Alexander's left. He hopped down from the windowsill as the little girl tried to rush towards him. Alexander caught her before she got close. The assassin put a shushing finger up to silence them as he walked almost without noise towards the open door.

The assassin was visibly armed with a short sword sheathed upon his belt, not unlike the black-clad agent's from earlier in shape. Alexander knew from experience that this was not an ordinary sword: silver-eyed assassins used only expensive duratium-forged weapons, which were practically unbreakable. A compact all-metal crossbow was strapped onto their back, as was a quiver of crossbow bolts. A strange pair of gauntlets appeared to be just underneath the white robes as well as the slayer slowly approached the open door, utterly ignoring them.

There was a loud sound from upstairs, and suddenly the slayer bolted, caution abandoned. He ran out of the room at speed, sword drawn, and Alexander heard a series of thuds as the assassin ran upstairs. A few seconds later and there were no more sounds in the entire manor besides the breathing of him, the twins, and the three unconscious slayers. Alexander breathed a huge sigh of relief; he had just dodged death and possibly saved the lives of others.

Now he only had to figure out what to do; unfortunately, his mind was drawing a complete blank.

He set the little girl down, closed the window to be safe, and looked at the responsibility that had just fallen into his lives: five lives. The twins were looking at him expectantly, like he was supposed to do something heroic. Only he didn't have a heroic bone in his body.

"Great, now what the hell am I going to do?"

* * *

Andrei and Audrey were pacing in his office in the Romanow Empire's embassy, neither of them able to sit still now that agents were in the field. Audrey had been near a complete panic when she felt the yoki auras of Raki, Claire, and Galatea disappear. He had only just managed to convince her that all was not lost, but he needed better news to soothe his nerves. The golden grandeur of his office only made him feel the gravity of the moment more.

The double doors to the office opened, with his long-haired Vice Ambassador, Lazarov, striding in with a face that seemed ambivalent.

"I have news from our operations, Your Excellency. Lieutenant Mario da Fiorentina reports he's wounded the Grand Alliance agent Rubel Louvre."

Andrei held up his hands, "And?"

Lazarov read the sheet, "Louvre managed to sedate the de Lautrecs and Bishop Galatea and was about to assassinate them inside the Malaga Manor when our comrade acted. He said he fired a bolt at Louvre's head, but Louvre reacted in time to take the hit in his right forearm rather than his head. Mario reports that all three are safe, as are the twins and their human tutor."

Audrey arched an eyebrow, "Since when could they afford a tutor?"

"Not now dear," Andrei reprimanded. "Please continue Lazarov."

His friend brushed his long blond hair away from the report, "Da Fiorentina reports that he is currently tracking Rubel Louvre and believes he can terminate him within the next twenty-four hours. He's currently in the southern district of the city searching."

Andrei tapped a pen on his desk, "The sooner that evil man is taken out the better. How are our other agents doing?"

Lazarov reached into his dark green jacket and pulled out another sheet, "Our agents are directing Captain Mustafa Besiktas and Lieutenant Giovanni da Fiorentina to the Border Mountains. They believe they can pick up Dae Prado's trail there."

"We won't be able to look the empress in the face if we don't stop him from leaving this island. We won't get another shot at the man if our intelligence is wrong," Andrei ruminated.

"Some things are not under our control," Audrey said, patting his shoulder. "Speaking of something we might be able to control, has everyone here forgotten that Claire, Raki, Galatea, the twins and the twins' tutor are still out there without protection?"

"We need to get them to a safe house until this blows over," Lazarov suggested.

"They're going to be afraid and not know where to go, so we need someone they won't fear to get them there. Is Alexis still working in the van Willems' household?"

Lazarov objected, "She only just infiltrated their household in the last week. We risk exposing one of our best new agents for—"

Audrey snapped, "Then who's going to save those adorable little twins?"

Andrei sat down and clasped his hands together, "Have Alexis make up an excuse and get her over there. We'll take all of the slayers and the tutor to one of our safe houses. Since the adult slayers are all sleeping, chances are we won't blow Alexis' cover. We need to move on and start discussing ways to prevent a coup by the new royal family."

Lazarov sighed, "Andrei, I hate to say it, but we don't have enough resources to stop a coup by the royals now that Claire, Raki and Galatea are no longer in the picture."

"We need to take precautions then," Andrei said, low. "All non-essential personnel will be evacuated from the embassy and taken to safe houses. If the worst happens, we go with our backup plan and blow up the Grand Alliance's embassy."

* * *

Dae Prado was enjoying his trip away from the dank caves of the Border Mountains. He was traveling in the splendid comfort of a royal stagecoach on a recently paved road. Outside he could see the familiar coastline of the western province of Lautrec. The weather was rather horrible outside, with plenty of rain and overcast skies as far as he could see.

Dae took another bite of the cheesecake he'd been given for the journey. Since he had finished his work a few days before, life had been good. The ambitious new royal family were his kind of people: ruthless, ambitious and devious. They had rewarded him handsomely with one hundred kilograms in gold bars; rich pay by even the late Organization's standards.

The group, Dae reflected ruefully, had been managed woefully and was often inefficient in its methods. Ever since they had first started out doing research work on the island, the nature of their cover story had encouraged corruption and excessive pay. Greedy handlers would purposely unleash Yoma on communities that could not afford to pay for protection so soon after prior attacks. When the towns couldn't come up with the money, the Organization reverted to standard tactics and annihilated the town using Yoma and Awakened Beings.

It was, Dae reflected, partly a problem he had added to over the years. He had enjoyed kidnapping boys and young men, who he could transform into half-Yoma, half-man things to be unleashed upon resistant villages and towns. As it turned out, many times the handlers would purposely overwhelm their areas with Yoma in the hopes of a record pay day. Corruption and handlers had become synonymous by the autumn years of the Organization. The result of their corruption would often wipe out the very villages and towns they needed to keep up revenues for research. Worse, it had made an increasing number of hybrid warriors suspicious of their superiors.

The result was the Organization's overthrow and Dae's subsequent imprisonment. There had been too many fools chasing short-term results and things had naturally backfired. If, as he had long suggested, they spent more on perfecting the identical twin 'awakening pair' warriors, he doubted they would have lost. They most certainly would never have wound up destroying most of their base and themselves by unleashing not-yet-ready creations upon their mutinying claymores.

"We'll be in Gonal in a few minutes," a man's voice interrupted.

One of Queen Violetta's royal chaffeurs was seated on the plush velvet bench opposite Dae, dressed in the gaudy red-and-yellow royal colors. The man was notable for his goatee, advancing middle age and his cane.

Dae had to ask, "Exactly what are you doing on this trip?"

The man chuckled, "Monsieur Prado, I believe you have mistaken me for one of the queen's servants. She in fact takes her orders from me, not the other way around."

Dae's lone eyebrow arched, "So you are actually Duke von Rundstedt, the Grand Alliance's ambassador?"

The man nodded, "That's correct. I'm here to fill you in on the next part of your career."

Dae put his hands together, "So you're here on behalf of Steel Fang, no?"

Rundstedt chuckled, "He thought you might appreciate the irony. Yes, the draconic chieftain is very interested in meeting and employing you. He has arranged for you to depart for the Teutonic Lands on our fastest available warship today."

Dae began laughing uncontrollably for a moment as Rundstedt frowned.

"No, I'm sorry," Dae apologized, "but you see I was assigned the responsibility of developing a weapon lethal enough to kill your master. I spent the last fifteen years of my career doing that, and now the being I was trying to kill for all these years is going to employ me."

"The draconic chieftain wishes to employ you against the silver-eyed usurper, Katarzyna Romanowa," Rundstedt informed him.

"I hear there's an invasion already underway; surely the Grand Alliance can—"

"She survived our assassination attempt," Rundstedt interjected. "We are uncertain whether we will have to face her in the climactic battle. The witch, I must grudgingly admit, is something of a battlefield genius. Her chances are quite slim, but just in case we are not successful in crushing her upstart empire, we would like you to create something capable of killing her."

Dae frowned, "Lord Ambassador, I'm afraid a silver-eyed assassin would be better for that than anything I could create."

"You misunderstand the resources the draconic chieftain is offering you," Rundstedt clarified. "You would be commanding a research and development group ten times the size of the Organization. We don't want to assassinate the empress with your creations; we want to massacre her."

"Very intriguing," Dae admitted.

The stagecoach had been traveling through a town for awhile now and now stopped in front of a large warship lined with decks full of cannons. Flying high above was the Grand Alliance's flag of red with two silver-white swords crossing over. There could be no doubt; it was a Grand Alliance warship of immense size. Steel Fang, head of the draconic tribe and thus de facto leader of the Grand Alliance, was obviously taking no unnecessary chances.

"We're here," Rundstedt said, stepping outside.

Nearly a hundred Teutonic Marines were lined up on the pier, everyone stiffly at attention and saluting as Rundstedt led him along the pier. They were nearly to the boarding ramp when a cry of alarm rang out.

A marine officer called out, "Achtung, es gibt zwei Mörder!"

Dae chanced a glance back to see the marine behind him take a crossbow bolt to the head, the man falling dead before him. Two individuals clad in brown robes, steel boots and white pants were rushing across gap between the town and the piers. A few marines fired off crossbow bolts, but the way the assassins were moving they couldn't be hit. Dae also knew from experience that they couldn't be human either.

A man wearing what looked to be a captain's uniform ran up to Rundstedt shouting orders, "Gehe zum Schiff! Wir werden sofort verlassen!"

Rundstedt grabbed Dae and they ran up the boarding ramp as the two assassins charged the hastily formed line of pike and crossbow-wielding marines. They disappeared from view as Dae was shoved bodily into the ship. They were rushed to the captain's quarters at the stern, with marines guarding both sides of the door and the balcony as well.

He could hear the anchor being pulled up by the crew, and all around were the noises of the warship's crew hard at work. Dae found their noises rather reassuring as men barked orders all around them. That was until something exploded outside the cabin. The marines at the door rushed outside, and Dae was able to glimpse dozens of mutilated men. Blood was pooling on the deck, and above he could hear the sounds of combat and yelling.

A pair of men fell screaming right past the stern windows. Rundstedt frantically jammed a chair against the back door while the remaining four marines bodily shoved the captain's desk in front of the main door.

Dae objected, "He's not likely to come through the—"

A shower of glass interrupted him and proved his point; a silver-eyed assassin had jumped feet-first right through the cabin's side windows. The assassin landed by somersaulting as the four marines hastily grabbed their weapons and converged upon him. Two poleaxe-armed marines to the slayer's left thrust their weapons straight at him. The warrior whipped into action in an instant and parried by blows downwards. He finished the move with a horizontal slash across the unarmored necks of both men.

They went down gargling and clutching at their throats. The two other marines tried to hang back and divert the warrior's attention between them. The brown-robed assassin was no fool; he simply ended the life of the one besides Rundstedt with a throwing knife straight through the center of his cuirass. The man slumped to the floor as the other marine edged back towards the window. The assassin charged him and the man swung low.

The assassin jumped and hit the man feet-first, smashing him right through the window and out the ship. Rundstedt had taken out a dagger and rushed forward towards the assassin's exposed back in desperation. The assassin blocked the attack with his gauntlet, knocked Rundstedt's arm up, impaled him with a hidden blade on his other arm, and then kicked the mortally wounded man onto his back. Rundstedt barely moved where he lay in a pool of blood.

Dae pleaded, "Now wait, I'm sure we can come to an agreement. I'll do anything Empress Katarzyna wants, I swear it!"

Dae backed into the wall, the assassin silently observing him while cleaning the blade of Rundstedt's blood, a tuft of his wavy blond hair emerging from under his hood. The noise of fighting elsewhere on the ship was all the proof Dae needed that the assassin's comrade was alive and laying waste to the ship's crew. The warrior took a compact all-metal crossbow off his back.

Dae tried his best to talk his way out of the situation, "My, that's a very fine bow. Is…is that entirely made of duratium?"

The assassin ignored his entreaties, loaded a bolt upon the crossbow, cocked the bow, and aimed it straight at his head.

The last thing Dae Prado ever heard was the slayer's accented Comnenian, "Her Supreme Imperial Majesty sends her regards."

* * *

Cid's patience was wearing thin as he sat in the Council meeting room looking out on the Teresian Cathedral and the old town square. His wife was in prison on the charge of treason and so far Lord Mayor Zaehringen was proving a royal pain about the case. Zaehringen was seated opposite him, with van Willems trying to mediate their conflict.

"I would like to see the evidence of my wife's treason," Cid insisted.

"The law does not say anything about the defendant's husband having the right to see the evidence against her in the case of treason," Zaehringen said brusquely. "I would advise you to halt your objections about your treasonous wife."

Cid stood up, "My wife is being imprisoned on evidence that you yourself admitted was anonymously donated, and you have no proof it wasn't forged!"

"Count Malaga, all suspects are guilty until proven innocent in the court of law," the graying Zaehringen said nonchalantly.

Cid had had enough, "This isn't about whether she's guilty or not, is it? This is all about your damn jealousy and fear of my wife!"

Zaehringen clapped his hands, "Major General Galacon, escort Count Malaga home and put him under house arrest."

Cid could see Galk close his eyes for a moment and sighed before walking over to him.

"Come on Cid, let's go," Galk said, grabbing him with an armored hand on the arm.

Cid managed one shout, "Don't put an innocent to death out of spite, Lord Mayor!"

Galk was tugging him towards the exit when the doors opened and the chamber shushed immediately as the Romanow Empire's ambassador walked in trailing several objecting guards and his long-haired Vice Ambassador, Lazarov.

Zaehringen stood up, "Ambassador Tuluzy, you will desist from this blatant violation of our sovereignty and exit the premises—"

"I need to speak before the Council on a matter of absolute importance to both of our states," Andrei politely replied.

Zaehringen looked confused, "Surely you can wait to tell me in private later."

Andrei nodded towards the Council as Galk's grip relaxed upon Cid, "I am afraid it is too important to wait."

Zaehringen seemed taken aback, "Very well, you may speak before the Council."

Andrei nodded towards Zaehringen, "Thank you Lord Mayor." He stepped up to the dais, "As Her Supreme Imperial Majesty's government has so often been reassured, Rabona's government is strictly neutral in the Global War. Recently the imperial embassy discovered a secret Grand Alliance naval base in the western lands of Lautrec. This represents a gross violation of the neutrality pact that was signed with the Romanow Empire. Her Majesty's government will never accept the presence of any Grand Alliance naval base or military presence on this island."

The Lord Mayor's face turned ashen as Andrei continued speaking.

"I regret to inform your Lordships that I am constrained in my abilities to react to this flagrant breach of trust by your government. The Foreign Minister left me with express instructions, none I imagine pleasing to your Lordships. Unless those bases are removed from this island within a week, a state of war will exist between the Kingdom of Toulouse and the Romanow Empire."

Zaehringen fainted at hearing this last line from Andrei.


	14. Chapter 13: The Battle of Liberec

**Chapter 13: The Battle of Liberec**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Battle that Changed the World"**

**By A. Comnenus**

**One hundred and twenty years before the battle of Liberec the first professional armies were created. The Kingdom of Allemania created a professional army as it clashed with the feudal Teutonic Order, the result being the Teutons' defeat. The fleeing Teutons accidentally ran into draconic territory, were surrounded, and the commander pleaded with the new draconic tribal leader, Steel Fang. He pledged that if Steel Fang and his comrades defeated the hated Allemanians, the Teutons would forever serve the draconic tribe. Steel Fang had just killed the prior chieftain, and eager to show the tribe he could improve their lives, made the unprecedented decision to accept this oath. The Allemanians were quickly defeated and world politics suffered a shock.**

**When a neighboring state came under attack by the growing, massive Bengali Empire, Steel Fang came to their aid with both dragons and Teutonic soldiers. The Bengalis were forced to sue for peace within weeks. In retribution Sultan Karim III created an alliance of states to safeguard himself against another draconic attack. These fourteen states called themselves the Alliance of Nations, and they soon started the Global War with an all-out attack upon the Osakan Empire. The Grand Alliance was formed to counter this, and within a few weeks there was unprecedented world war.**

**Steel Fang's tribe entered the war two years later, the dragons nearly forcing the Alliance of Nations to the peace table that very year. If not for the creation of Yoma, few historians doubt that this would have happened. A year later the first Awakened Beings saw action and their unmatched effectiveness convinced Steel Fang's enemies to keep going. Tactics used against a Smok in the field were fairly simple. If one had 'special half-man, half-Yoma warriors, you unleashed them against the dragon. If not, then the army would usually beat a hasty retreat, as it was extremely difficult to kill a Smok with conventional means.**

**That would change 80 years later when Captain Antoni Poniatowski's battery of field guns became the first human force to take down a Smok without horrific casualties. Silver-eyed slayers and numerous identical twins called "Special Warriors" further evened the gruesome odds, but nonetheless the tribe still had the edge. This would change when Katarzyna Romanowa figured out a Smok's greatest weakness: its huge appetite. She used massed cavalry and slayer raids to disrupt and cut lines of communication and supply, and was also the first commander in history to use over 100 slayers in a concentrated attack. This in turn forced the draconic tribe to concentrate their numbers and only exacerbated their supply line problems.**

**The Grand Alliance was determined to take down the new empress, a woman they despised and referred to her as "the usurping whore" even in official documents. This vitriol was almost entirely due to Romanowa's string of devastating victories against them and her usurpation of established monarchical families. Katarzyna was different from any monarch they'd faced before in that she was a self-made woman. To destroy her, the Grand Alliance sent a million-man army accompanied by 1,000 Smokowcy, a full one-twentieth of the entire tribe. To solve their supply problems, 150,000 Allemanian slaves were employed to build enormous cobblestone highways. As a result they made great progress, and the enormous army was soon within sight of Praha's outskirts.**

**Waiting for them was a 600,000-man army backed by 3500 slayers and surprisingly headed by Empress Katarzyna herself, who had managed to dodge a Grand Alliance assassination attempt. Twenty kilometers south of Praha, the stage was set for the greatest battle in history …**

* * *

Alevtina wanted to punch something rather badly, such was the frustration she was feeling. She was stuck in an opulent, gold-adorned palace suite full of ridiculously expensive things, which ordinarily she would have enjoyed. Only she was stuck inside this opulent prison with a person that could not accept who they were.

Dietrich stomped her foot on a massive white canopy bed Alevtina had seated herself before.

"This is intolerable, I am a princess, and this," Dietrich said of her dull gray Organization outfit, "is not acceptable clothing for a princess!"

Alevtina wanted to tear her pixie-style hair out, "For the last damn time, you soul-linked with Princess Kasia Romanowa. Those memories you had were not your own!"

Dietrich stretched to her puny height atop the bed, "You know full well what happened, Alevtina, you screwed up and we switched bodies!"

"I severely doubt that," Alevtina sighed.

"How can you doubt that?"

Alevtina said the obvious, "Because you remembered my name, and I've never met the princess before. Only the real Dietrich would know who I am, and you do know who I am."

Dietrich stammered, "Well… you're just trying to fool me, aren't you?"

Alevtina covered her eyes when a knock came on the door, "I'll be back soon enough. I would suggest you read your diary from when you first came here."

Delusional Dietrich snapped, "Get me out of this scrawny, small-breasted, freckle-faced girl's body this instant! I want my long legs, bigger bust and good looks back! And another thing, quit calling me Dietrich; my name's Kasia!"

Alevtina sighed, "I wouldn't diss your body; you'll only regret it later."

Before Dietrich could mount yet another hysterical rant, Alevtina walked out of the room and closed the doors. Facing her was a heavily-built slayer with a modest amount of brown-blond facial hair and a prominent scar down the right side of his face. Whatever had done it had luckily missed his eye, or perhaps, Alvetina realized on second thought, he had simply healed the wound. After all, his eyes were the piercing silver of a veteran male slayer.

Alevtina nodded, "Wenceslaus, I'm happy to see you stopped by."

Wenceslaus made an impressive sight in his armor, which consisted of a steel cuirass, gauntlets, pauldrons, tassets, greaves, steel boots and a plain steel helmet in one arm. Clutched in his opposite hand was an enormous double-bladed battle axe. By the looks of its shine, it was made from pure duratium. His muscular, tall stature only made him more impressive in person.

Wenceslaus glanced in the direction of Dietrich's muffled ranting, "Any luck?"

Alevtina frowned, "What do you think?"

Wenceslaus remarked, "Well, I'm surprised she's still so deluded a full week after you woke her up. Crown Princess Rima says her sister shows no sign of any mental issues."

Alevtina turned towards the door, as Dietrich was banging on it in protest, muttering something about how she was going to get the service deserving her stature of else.

"That's completely understandable given the way Dietrich fell into Princess Kasia's subconscious memories during the Soul-link. As near as I can tell, she was literally living through the princess' memories for three weeks before she woke up."

Wenceslaus commented, "But Dietrich's saying things that would have taken her years to get to know. She knows about events only a Romanow would remember. Surely in just three weeks—"

"It's entirely possible," Alevtina replied. "Soul-link does that to people; you experience time more slowly when two souls are linked. You take on some of their emotions and memories, especially the longer you maintain it. It's why the identical twin special warriors were so susceptible to losing their sense of self. Since Dietrich linked with an unconscious person, she could have experienced that memory and emotional transfer on a far greater level."

Wenceslaus asked, "Will she ever recover her old self?"

Alevtina scratched the back of her head, "Sir, I was asking Dietrich about the memories, and as near as I can tell she's experienced not one but eight years of living the life of Kasia Romanowa."

There was a silence for a moment from Wenceslaus as he took this in.

"Are you sure it was years—"

"Yes, it was years," Alevtina huffed, "she's been living every day of Kasia Romanowa's life for nearly a decade. She doesn't remember being Dietrich Tuluzy, and until she does, our friend will be stuck in this delusional state for the rest of her life."

Wenceslaus was left with a guilty look upon his face as he looked past Alevtina towards the palatial bedroom door Dietrich was pounding on.

"It's not your fault," Alevtina reassured while clasping his hand.

"I'm not so sure, but let's move on. I've got a battle to prepare for, and by the sounds of it we've got our backs up against the wall," Wenceslaus remarked. "We're facing 800,000 men and 1000 Dragonkin with a mere 3500 slayers and 600,000 men."

"Sun Tzu once said if you feared losing, you've already lost half the battle, Alevtina reprimanded him.

"Sun Tzu never faced Dragonkin in combat," Wenceslaus reminded.

Alevtina shook him, "I know you and the empress have your disagreements, but if she loses your chance to make this a better world disappears. Don't forget your promise."

* * *

James was in the Cesarzowa's tent, waiting as her female servants donned her in her ornate, gold-gilded duratium armor. Her back was to him in the plain white tent, only her long, wavy blond hair visible above the armor. One female Silver Guard handed the tall Cesarzowa her helmet, which the empress donned upon her head. A pair of lanterns lit the otherwise dark tent.

Katarzyna turned her tall frame, her eyes taking him in calmly. Very little of her face was visible, as only a t-shaped gap on the helmet's front that showed the tip of her nose and eyes. A massive plume of red feathers capped her helmet, and double-headed imperial eagles adorned her armor's pauldrons, helmet, and cuirass front. A back and gold cape completed the look in magnificent fashion, giving the tall Cesarzowa an impressive presence.

She was walking forward towards the white tent's exit when she stumbled. He caught her just in time; the effects of the assassination attempt were clearly not yet gone.

James asked in concern, "Are you sure you feel well enough to command?"

Katarzyna recovered her poise and stared him in the eyes, "I am, and quit referring to me in the familiar in public, James."

James gulped, "Of course, Cesarzowa."

The empress stood straight again, although nearly a dozen Silver Guards in full armor were within meters to protect and support her. Katarzyna let go of his supporting arm and walked outside. A roar of approval rose up, with cheers, whistles and shouts of devotion creating a cacophony. James emerged from the tent and saw the source: on all sides' army soldiers, some armored and unarmored, pumping their fists or holding torches into the night air.

Holding them back on all sides were flashily-dressed, fully-armored Imperial Guardsmen in double lines on both sides. The Cesarzowa took a moment to hold up a hand acknowledging the men's cheers as she walked forward on the dormant grass of winter. Despite freezing temperatures and some wind, the men seemed to pay it no mind.

The empress strode more confidently forward now, her armor reflecting the torchlight of the enormous crowd gathered to see her. James knew the Cesarzowa had only just recovered enough to get back and assume command two days before. She had quickly prepared the battlefield positions of the army, and morale had skyrocketed upon hearing she had taken over. Battle now appeared imminent for the next morning, so for appearance's sake they desperately needed the Cesarzowa to not show any signs of the weakness brought on by her near-death.

Katarzyna approached and mounted a massive all-black stallion that was more of a draft horse than a warhorse. Even as James mounted his own smaller horse behind her he could barely see over the crush of humanity gathered around. As far as his eye could see in the night were army tents and soldiers gathered in dense crowds. Katarzyna prodded her horse to a high point in the clearing made by the desperate efforts of the Imperial Guard.

"Soldiers of the Imperial Romanow Army," Katarzyna shouted, her voice of surprisingly great volume for a female, "when I first took command, my men were tired, ill-fed, and scarcely paid. We faced hardship, a government that owed much but gave little, and we had no fame in the eyes of the people. In a fortnight I led my first brigade to eight victories, took twelve enemy standards, acquired twenty cannon, and the brigade liberated shoes, food and money enough to pay and equip them many times over."

A hush fell over the cheering men as they began to listen intently to their beloved leader.

"When others let you down, I continued to lead my men to honor, wealth and glory. All I asked of my men was courage and the strength to endure what must be done. Often we found ourselves making forced marches without shoes, encampments without rum, spent days without bread, crossed rivers lacking bridges and defeated Smokowcy without cannon!"

The men were beginning to cheer now; James didn't know where she had learned to inspire, but the empress could be an amazing motivator.

"We made an amazing journey together, you and me, as we both gained fame, glory, and a better future. When we were on the cusp of inflicting a crushing defeat upon the Grand Alliance, the High Command betrayed our own army. They squabbled like the petty, uncaring tyrants they were, so together we overthrew their incompetent and uncaring rule."

James mouth twitched out of view under his helmet; the coup had given him bad memories. He had also forgotten how the Allied Army Command had thrown its weight behind their favorite general in the coup's aftermath.

"In the beginning our struggles were desperate; we were attacked by traitors and the surrounding countryside misguidedly turned on us. Yet, despite the odds against us, your courage prevailed. The three armies which had attacked you with fury fled before you in terror; the dastardly lords who mocked your misery and cheered at the thought of triumphs by your enemies were confused, confounded, and forced to tremble at your feet."

Shouts of "Niech żyje cesarzowa" broke out in the crowd of soldiers. James smiled involuntarily; it meant "long live the empress!"

"I repaid my debts and paid you; I ended the foul institution of slavery, banned the servitude of serfdom, and gave you more freedom and a better future. Yet now that you have such freedoms, the tyrants of the Grand Alliance wish to take it from you," Katarzyna said while making a dramatic gesture with one arm.

A chorus of boos and angry shouting broke out amongst the men.

"Soldiers, I have asked much of you, but you have done little compared with what remains to be done. We face a great enemy on our doorstep, and some tell you this is a crisis. In the Szechwan language the symbol for crisis is also the symbol for opportunity. Without doubt, you have overcome the most fearsome obstacles, but tomorrow there is yet one more great battle to fight. Is there any amongst you whose honor and courage is flagging?"

A thunderous chorus of "no" erupted.

Katarzyna stood up in the saddle, which resulted in James nearly having cardiac arrest from worry as she continued, "I know all of you long to humiliate the arrogant Smok chieftain and those dastardly kings and emperors who have sided with him. They wish to place you in chains like they have their people; who here does not wish to crush their plans?"

The shouts of "Niech żyje cesarzowa" were deafening in response.

"Men, tomorrow, there will be a great battle, the result of which will decide the enemy's fate. In their desperation, they have thrown every reserve they have at us; we have but to crush them to dictate a glorious peace worthy of the immense sacrifices you have all made. Comrades, when all that is required to secure the prosperity and strength of your country is done, the people will greet you with joy as heroes. It will be enough to say to them 'I was at the battle of Liberec for their reply to be, 'here is a hero!'"

The cheering and shouts of approval was truly deafening as the empress stood erect above the saddle, each foot locked into her stirrups, waving at the men. Her doctors had recommended she not do almost anything but rest, and here she was pushing herself towards exhaustion. James found himself swelling with conflicting emotions; he wanted the stop the Cesarzowa from hurting herself and yet swelled in pride at her endurance and courage. If the Grand Alliance thought tomorrow was going to be easy, they would soon find otherwise.

The empress sat back down, acknowledging the cheers as she prodded the horse forward, the Imperial Guard parting the crowds before her. Eventually James saw the familiar figure of Crown Princess Rima waiting near the immense command tent nearby. The empress dismounted and gave Rima a quick hug.

Rima objected, "You know the doctor said you should be in bed."

Katarzyna scoffed, "Tonight has been the best moment of my life, and I would not miss the coming battle when so many are counting upon me. You look a little pale yourself Rima."

"I came to tell you that Duchess laid five eggs," Rima explained.

Katarzyna slung an arm around Rima and walked her into the tent, which was lit by innumerable lanterns, which were both safer than torches and also provided light longer. A large table with an elevation map and toy figures representing troops dominated the tent's center. The Silver Guard took up positions all around the interior as the two Romanows whispered.

Katarzyna gave her orders, "We'll make certain Duchess and her eggs are safe. No female egg by chance?"

"No," Rima whispered back.

James could only hear the discussion because as the deputy officer of the Silver Guard he was expected to be near the imperial family. His beautiful, brown-skinned superior, Katja Tymoshenko, stood behind the two Romanows on the opposite side of the empress.

Rima said something inaudible to Katarzyna, who seemed to be rather affronted, "You have a lot of gall asking me that when you put Duke Djugashvili in charge of the Reserve Army. If you want to talk stupidity, putting a powerful slayer in the position where he can seize the throne in my absence is surely the epitome of foolishness. Consider yourself lucky that our ties as family are too strong for me to have you replaced as my heir."

Rima left trying to look stoic; it didn't fool James. He knew from the depressed way she walked that she was nearly in tears. Rima, as Kasia had once told him, was far better at dishing out criticism and curses than she was at taking them.

* * *

James found it almost impossible to sleep during the night but somehow did so anyways. Eventually, after many troubled dreams, woke up, donned his armor, and exited his small tent. The sun's first rays were just beginning to brighten the eastern sky as he stretched and turned back to grab his sword. He noticed the chill air was cold enough to show his warm breath.

"Fine morning, isn't it?"

Scarcely three meters away was Katarzyna, empress of a third the people on the planet. She was wearing her full, ornate armor already but with her massive pointed hat, only a dozen Silver Guards immediately around her. To be fair, she was in the midst of the Silver Guards' tents, many of whom were already forming a defensive perimeter further off. This was a prudent measure given the attempts on the lives of the Romanow Imperial Family.

"Cesarzowa," James said, inclining his head.

Katarzyna walked over and he found himself receiving an appreciative pat on the back.

"No need to be so formal, James," Katarzyna commented, leading his chin up with a white-gloved hand.

James flinched inwardly; she was breaking the very rule she had just set down yesterday about being informal. This had always been a problem since Katarzyna had seized her throne; she was no longer a mere common witch and needed to act as imperial as her title. At least that was what Bastia kept saying. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the Cesarzowa had never really been able to entirely act like an arrogant royal towards old friends. She was constantly shifting between the familiar and the informal with him, undoubtedly of two minds, a fact that had infuriated Bastia. However even Bastia knew better than to berate an empress.

The main imperial army camp was several kilometers further back, well away from the hill they were upon, where the army was beginning to form up into battle lines. Between the hill and the main camp was a fog-filled valley. Many kilometers to the right, James observed a sizable town upon a lakeshore that anchored the army's right flank. Out to the left was a wide-open plain, where the imperial army's left flank lay. However the empress wasn't looking towards their forces, as the early light was just beginning to poke through the clouds overhead.

"I can make out the outline of their camp now that the light is better," the Cesarzowa noted. "They've certainly brought quite an army to fight us. Who would have thought two years ago the same half-complacent men and Smokowcy would be capable of so much?"

It was indeed an impressive if chilling sight in James' opinion. The imperial army's camp made an awesome sight, but the Grand Alliance's was yet more impressive. A third larger still, it was dotted with countless men and burning campfires. But trudging through that camp far below was the real might behind the invasion: enormous numbers of massive Dragonkin. A particularly large red-brown Smok had just arrived on the enemy's front lines.

Even from several kilometers away James could hear the roaring approval of the other Smokowcy and even some of the men. The main Smok smacked his massive, clawed hands against the ground and let out a terrifying bellow. It took several seconds for the noise to reach him, and it was soon followed by the even louder roars of hundreds more Smokowcy following his example.

"They certainly are trying their hardest to scare the men. That massive Smok, that's Eisen Klauen, Iron Claws," Katarzyna almost whispered. "It seems he's come to finish the job he couldn't eight years ago."

"Perhaps he wants your legs," Katja muttered as she came up besides James.

"I don't doubt it," the Cesarzowa replied. "He still wants revenge for us taking Duchess from him. That and this is Steel Fang's way of showing us he means to finish us today. A shame the dragon tribe's chieftain isn't seeing to it personally. They're sending a messenger."

A group of a dozen men in grand outfits began riding out from the Grand Alliance lines.

"Good grief," James muttered involuntarily.

Crown Princess Rima ran up, "Cesarzowa, I thought your doctors told you to rest—"

Katarzyna's keen eyes silenced the objection beneath her immense imperial hat's veil. The empress was wearing her enormous pointy hat at the moment, but was otherwise donned in full armor. It was an awkward look, but James noticed her red-plumed helmet in one arm.

Rima nodded briefly in deference to the Cesarzowa and caught sight of the enormous army ranged in opposition, "Shit, is their army really that big? How do we intend to stop them from overwhelming us?"

"It is, and our strategy has already been decided," Katarzyna remarked. "Tell me Rima, do you know why Smokowcy are so much more dangerous than awakened beings?"

Rima seemed surprised, "I assumed it was because a Smok on its own is much more dangerous than an awakened."

Katarzyna smirked underneath her veil, "Not quite true, Rima. While the average Smok is somewhat more dangerous than an average awakened, they are utterly lacking in the ability to fire projectiles and are sometimes much slower. That's discounting the fact that there is no Smok that can fly. What makes Smokowcy more lethal is not their great strength, fast-healing, nor their armored hide, lethal tail, long claws or great size. They are more lethal because they have discipline, intelligence, use tactics, and coordinate with one another. Awakened are incapable of such coordination, and are slaughtered in battle in comparison."

"Why are you saying this Cesarzowa?"

"We'll be facing the largest concentration of their kind in history upon the battlefield. Do not underestimate their ability to fight in groups or their intelligence, Rima. Your old friend Wenceslaus will be helping hold our right flank," Katarzyna declared. "I want you to take fifty Silver Guards and coordinate with him and Marshal Korsakov."

Rima nodded, "Yes Cesarzowa."

Rima quickly rushed off, mounted her armored warhorse, and spurred the stallion into a gallop towards the thin lines anchoring their right flank. Another fifty Silver Guards followed moments later, rushing past the Cesarzowa with their heads turned and their arms raised in salute. The Cesarzowa acknowledged them with a wave of her hand, and after they were gone removed her hat, handed it to Katja, and put on her helmet.

Moments later a pair of gaudily dressed officers in armor approached in a huff from the left. One moved with dynamism and had a fine white turban upon his head, a well-trimmed beard complementing it on his brown-skinned face. The other was a shorter Siyamese man with an open-faced, imperial eagle-adorned helmet upon his head. They both wore long black cloaks bordered in gold, and their plate armor was richly adorned with imperial emblems.

"Marshal Singh, Marshal Tokugawa, you're late," the Cesarzowa hissed.

"Cesarzowa," the turbaned Marshal Singh objected after bowing, "if you had informed me, I assure you I would—"

"Assuring me with words is not what I want, Marshal Singh," Katarzyna remarked, her eyes glancing to James and then straight into Singh's. "I want men of deeds, not words. In a few moments the Grand Alliance's messengers will be arriving. I want you to stay with me for the moment."

Tokugawa bowed, "Of course, Cesarzowa."

The beating of horses' hooves turned everyone's heads. The riding party from the Grand Alliance's army had arrived and slowed their horses as they approached the empress' party. Imperial Guardsmen rushed to create a defensive perimeter around the empress as well as a pathway for any possible visitor. Katja and a whole squad of Silver Guard held a line a little ways off, where ornately dressed Grand Alliance men grudgingly dismounted and permitted their persons to be searched.

"They're clean," Katja shouted.

Katarzyna waved them forward, where a young man dressed in a puffy red shirt with white sleeves, white tights and silver-buckle shoes came forward. He seemed very young to James' eyes, and then he realized that the 'young man' was in fact a silver-eyed slayer. He had almost forgotten that in the aftermath of Katarzyna's coup a few of their own kind had turned traitor and defected to the Grand Alliance.

The well-groomed slayer, whose hair had been dyed brown, halted three meters away with James and another Silver Guard flanking the empress.

Katarzyna waited expectantly, "Well?"

"I carry a message from the Grand Alliance to you, Marshal," the slayer declared in a polished voice.

The annoyance amongst the Silver Guards and Imperial Guardsmen around the Cesarzowa was palpable. This messenger had just failed to address the empress by her proper title, a grave affront. However, given that the Grand Alliance refused to acknowledge the empress' title and position, it was not something that surprised James. To stick the Grand Alliance even more in the eye, Bastia had suggested the honorific of 'Her Supreme Imperial Majesty'. Since there were some four emperors in the Grand Alliance, it was supposed to mark her far above any of them and also annoy them that she did not acknowledge them as equals.

"Their Imperial Majesties and His Eminence, Iron Claws, demand that you immediately give up your ill-gotten throne, stand your forces down, accept Grand Alliance suzerainty of your lands, and accept exile to the Kingdom of Breton," the slayer continued.

Katarzyna remarked calmly, "Is that all?"

The messenger's back stiffened, "Your actions have led directly and indirectly to the deaths of over a million people! Have the decency to accept to accept exile and leave the world in peace. You face an army you cannot hope to defeat in the field."

"I am disinclined to acquiesce," the Cesarzowa murmured.

"Then your army will be broken this day, your Silver Guard decimated, your Imperial Guard smashed and sent into retreat, and our terms will be unconditional surrender," the messenger snapped. "This will be your final judgment for your illegal usurpation of power, your butchery of the royal families, and your lust for absolute power."

James was sorely tempted to slap the slayer for his insults. Katarzyna was not a monster; she was merely misunderstood. Despite the abuse, the empress merely stood there calmly, taking it in.

"We have nothing more to say to you, usurper," the slayer hissed. "By today's end, you will not live to regret your actions."

The slayer turned and left, mounted his horse, and with a disdainful glance back, prodded his chestnut-colored horse forward. His party followed and was soon out of earshot. James looked over at Katarzyna, who was holding her head.

James steadied her balance by gripping her left arm, "Cesarzowa, you're not well—"

"I'm well enough to command," Katarzyna insisted, "and at least now we know the Grand Alliance was involved with the assassination attempts on our family."

James frowned; he wasn't sure how she had come to that conclusion. In fact, he wasn't sure the empress was recovered enough to be thinking properly. He couldn't recall the last time Katarzyna had just stood by and taken abuse from someone else.

Marshal Singh spoke up, "Cesarzowa, there was one minor matter. Dukes Sergei and Wenceslaus send you their best wishes towards your recovery, and Wenceslaus asks whether Princess Kasia is doing better."

The Cesarzowa's eyes lit up, "You may tell Duke Wenceslaus that she is recovering and busily directing our empire's government in my absence, and as for me, I plan to fight regardless of my poor condition. They're positioned on the opposite flanks, correct?"

Marshal Singh nodded, "As you requested, we've kept them separated. Sergei and Indira will be helping hold the left flank, and Wenceslaus, Crown Princess Rima and Minhe-Choung Park will be helping hold our right flank. Your orders, Cesarzowa?"

James nearly had a heart attack when Katarzyna said, "We abandon the high ground."

* * *

Wenceslaus was resting his massive battle axe's handle upon his left shoulder, observing the approaching Grand Alliance lines a kilometer distant. Evident behind their front line of pikemen and heavy swordsmen were hundreds of Dragonkin. He was sitting on a front porch of a house on the edge of the town of Liberec. Milling all around were a thousand slayers, some on rooftops and others in formation. Suddenly there was a great cheer.

"Sounds like Rima has arrived," a female slayer murmured.

He turned to find the legendary Minhe-Choung Park leaning against a post. She was wearing her armor, a black and gold-embroidered cape giving her a flashy appearance. Minhe was perhaps the fastest female slayer in history, but seemed relaxed as she parted some of her long blond bangs to look at him.

Minhe asked, "Aren't you going to greet your favorite Romanow?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Wenceslaus murmured.

"Sure you don't," Minhe sniffed in amusement, "wouldn't want to ruin your chances at becoming Cesarzow, now would you?"

The chance to respond was stolen by Rima's contingent of Silver Guards before him and Minhe, with Rima dismounting in dramatic fashion. Minhe nonchalantly flicked her waist-long ponytail, donned her helmet, and turned to salute. Wenceslaus took the moment more seriously and saluted immediately.

Rima glanced at Minhe as she stopped before the porch, "Just a little nonchalant, Duchess Park. Good grief Wenceslaus, just what do you think you're wielding?"

Minhe flashed him a smirk; she clearly thought Rima was proving her theory.

"I find a battle axe is much more useful for severing a Smok's vertebrae than lighter weapons," Wenceslaus replied, pointing to Minhe's curved Katana sword.

"My sword does just fine," Minhe rebuked him.

A signal flag officer rushed up to Rima and breathlessly saluted, "The Cesarzowa says she is withdrawing from the Tellnitz Heights and wants you to prepare for immediate attack."

Rima stiffened; the disbelief was etched all over her face.

"Marshal Korsakov wished you to know," the signal officer explained before running off.

Wenceslaus could see the Grand Alliance's lines surging forward now, Dragonkin coming behind the front ranks. The slayers around them were rushing back behind the lines as countless pikemen and halberdmen prepared to receive the charge.

"Goddammit," Rima cursed. "I hope to hell she knows what she's doing, because giving up the high ground goes against every book of military tactics I've ever read."

James was watching the attack on the right flank with unease. Massive numbers of men were now engaged in a massive fight, with the Dragonkin coming up to try a breakthrough. At least they did so until there were a massive number of powder flashes. As the smoke rose from the town of Liberec, he heard countless booms only muffled by the distance.

"That ought to make them think twice," Katarzyna murmured next to him. "Dragonkin hate being hit by concentrated cannon fire."

She was watching the fight through a hand telescope along with Marshals Singh and Tokugawa. On all sides were members of the Silver Guard, both on horseback and on foot. They were partly enveloped by a low fog, but even more concealed was the imperial army's center, which was further behind at the very bottom of the valley floor.

"They've taken the Tillnitz Heights," Marshal Singh said, pointing.

Sure enough, as James looked, he saw Grand Alliance red-and-white flags atop the long hill far above them. Somehow it looked as if the Cesarzowa wasn't concerned. A glance to the left flank saw the Grand Alliance's army approaching across farm fields rimmed by low walls of stone. Far out front of the main lines was a group of—

"Not bad," Katarzyna murmured. "Those have to be Osakan Samurai longbowmen. They're acting as a skirmish force to engage our crossbowmen and weaken our lines."

"That might have worked in the time of Suleiman the Conqueror," Marshal Singh remarked.

Katarzyna glanced at the nearby signals officer, "Signal Marshals Nusayr and Massena to bring up their cannons and let them approach to within six hundred meters before firing. A shame this is Emperor Junichiro's first battle; he's not going to enjoy the lesson we'll give him."

James could just glimpse the hundreds of cannons being moved into firing positions as the Osakan troops approached en masse. Abruptly there was a massive series of blasts as the cannons opened up on the shocked archers. James could scarcely watch the carnage through his telescope. Men were being shot to pieces as they tried to climb over a low stone wall. One cannonball hit the ground early and then knocked off the legs of over ten men as it flew down their line. James averted his glance from their agony and towards the bold commander.

The commander tried to keep the archers going while under fire as James watched. This lasted until the man was beheaded by a flying cannonball. As his body fell to the ground, the men panicked and ran back towards the safety of their lines. In the battle between cannon and archers, the much greater firepower and range of artillery batteries made all the difference. The enemy hadn't even managed a volley.

"Have our reinforcements from Visegrad arrived yet?"

Marshal Singh looked uncomfortable, "Not yet. Cesarzowa, if Vice Marshal Suvorov is late, we should change our plans and reinforce the weakened right flank with the—"

"That is out of the question," Katarzyna snapped. "The Vice Marshal has shown himself to be a man of action, and I have no doubt he can accomplish the forced march."

Marshal Tokugawa objected, "Cesarzowa, perhaps 100 kilometers was too far to push his men from Visegrad in 48 hours."

The empress roughly grabbed Tokugawa by his armored collar, dragging him closer, "His men aren't even scheduled to get here for another hour and you're already acting like some panicked grandmother!"

Marshal Singh tried to reason with her as she let the fearful Tokugawa go, "Cesarzowa, it is not unreasonable to fear a man so young…"

The glowering from the empress was formidable, "You might have used the same argument against members of my family once. Suvorov may be 25, but he is a combat-proven officer with twelve victories and no defeats to his name; he is not going to let me down."

Marshals Singh and Tokugawa gave up trying to convince the Cesarzowa otherwise. James didn't know the young Vice Marshal, but there were very few individuals who inspired the empress' trust so, not even Rima. Katarzyna very rarely mistook someone's personal character.

"Well, look at that, they're trying to take us in both flanks," the Cesarzowa remarked.

Hundreds of thousands of men were rushing forward now on both flanks, with Dragonkin following behind the front lines. From what little James knew of the battle strategy, the left flank would be held by Marshals Massena and Nusayr with 200,000 men. The right flank would be mostly held by a single, strung-out corps under Marshal Korsakov and the less strung-out corps of Marshal Tokugawa. Holding the center was Marshal Singh's corps along with the 100,000-man strong Imperial Guard.

Judging by all-out assault on both flanks, particularly the right, the Grand Alliance had decided the strategy of double envelopment. Given the fact that the imperial army lacked the manpower to match the length of frontline by their enemies, the strategy was obvious. Stretch them and then smash both flanks before turning in on the center and destroying the army.

"I count 300,000 men backed by 300 Smokowcy on the right, and 300,000 men and 300 Smokowcy attacking on our left. If the fools knew what they were doing they'd be hitting us with the Dragonkin in the front ranks," Katarzyna commented. "Marshal Tokugawa, see to it that Marshal Korsakov's corps receives supporting fire."

* * *

"Here they come," Rima murmured fearfully, clutching her claymore like a crutch.

"It'll be fine," Wenceslaus reassured, patting the Crown Princess on the shoulder. "Just don't think about it and let the fight flow through you."

They were a hundred meters behind the front lines, with the pikemen in full formation, pikes out in a multi-layered defense. Within their lines were a number of halberdmen, wielding their much shorter weapons. These Wenceslaus knew from experience were needed to counter the attacks of the Landknechts; swordsmen who wielded broadswords so large they needed two hands to wield them. They were used to hack into pikemen formation and break them open enough for heavy cavalry to punch through. Halberdmen, while slightly less useful against cavalry, could more than hold their own and they had the advantage of being able to fight heavy swordsmen.

"Damn bloody bastards are going to get a taste of our fire today boys," a white-haired, well-armored man shouted beside them, pacing behind lines of crossbowmen.

The man was none other than Marshal Korsakov, a 70-year-old veteran and legendary for his ability to mount stiff defenses. By Wenceslaus' estimate he was sorely needed, as over twice as many men were bearing down on their lines. The Marshal had set up on the edge of town, just a block in. At first Wenceslaus didn't know why, but now it was obvious. The enemy would be funneled down the streets straight into the Marshal's cannon and defensive lines. The flank to the right was held by an ice-covered lake, but it looked too thin for anyone to dare chance crossing.

Rima whispered into Wenceslaus' ear as the crossbowmen began loading their bows, "I have a confession to make. I couldn't think of anything but the three hundred million lives resting on my shoulders. It was like a never-ending nightmare; I'd have been happier raising Sturm and Drang all over again then do that again."

"Your Imperial Highness, now's not the time for this," Wenceslaus whispered back.

This was just like Rima; the other side of her temper and bold attitude was a sometimes debilitating anxiety. Rima was a spectacular warrior, but she lacked Sergei's cool professional killing instinct or Indira's pure battle-fury.

Korsakov shouted a few meters away from them, "Fire!"

The first line of crossbowmen let loose at the charging enemy swordsmen several hundred meters away. Before the bolts even hit, the next line rose in their place, aimed, and then let loose. The enemy swordsmen came down in small numbers at first, and then in increasing numbers as the distance closed. A pair of cannons parted the front lines in the street's center, their crew at the ready.

"Artillery, double-canister shot on my mark," Korsakov barked, holding up his hand.

He flung his arm down, "Mark!"

The swordsmen were running at top speed now, gasping in their armor as they closed to within 50 meters on the cobblestone street. The cannon crews lit their fuses and held hands over their ears. It took a couple of seconds, so that the enemy infantry was within half the distance when an ear-splitting pair of blasts ripped into them. The front ranks of the swordsmen didn't so much fall as they were eviscerated. In some places, men twenty ranks back had still been hit by the cannon's fire, which had punched two large holes into the enemy ranks. The attacking men had been gruesomely turned into nothing more than cannon fodder.

"Pull back the cannon," Korsakov yelled. "Slayers, prepare yourselves for combat. The fucking bastards are bringing up the real monsters."

The man cursed like a sergeant, which as chance had it Korsakov had once been. Wenceslaus could feel the ground was shaking with countless tremors; he knew the onslaught that was coming even before he saw them. The chill air was overwhelmed in the yells of men as the Grand Alliance's swordsmen smashed into a wall of pikes. Some managed to cut their way into the pikes, but others were unluckily impaled.

"See to your damn battalion, Duke Wenceslaus," the shorter Korsakov yelled at him.

"Yes sir," he acknowledged and rushed back to the main square, a block back, where some five hundred slayers stood waiting for him.

Rushing past him was Minhe, who was leading her battalion to hold the left side of town with her warriors. His warriors, both male and female, looked apprehensive.

"Slayers, we're going to hold the lake-side of Liberec and prevent any Dragonkin-led breakthroughs. We need to hold them until Vice Marshal Suvorov's reinforcements arrive. I promise, your actions will be recounted to the Cesarzowa, so let's show the Grand Alliance that we know how to fight and survive."

He led them forward, towards the front lines, the boom of many cannon and the tremendous tremors in the earth telling him of the approach of the Smokowcy. His slayers rushed towards the front lines, where they got their glimpse of hundreds of incoming dragons. As he watched from the roof of a temple, the three-story tall beasts avoided their own men by pulverizing their way through buildings. He could feel the ground quake and tremble from the force of it.

Bricks, buildings, roofs, and more went flying as the Smokowcy took their shortcut straight through the blocks themselves. This he had to stop, as they would go right by the cannons that could stop them and decimate the infantry.

"We intercept them with a three-pronged attack, straight on and from either side," Wenceslaus yelled at his subordinates.

There was something exhilarating about hearing five hundred pairs of boots behind him, but the sheer numbers of Smokowcy was worrying. He jumped up onto the rooftop edge of one block and kept going. He had only reached the block's edge when the first Smok smashed through four-story buildings on the opposite side of the street. This one was enormous; nearly one hundred tons by his estimation.

It had enormous back-fins, which marked an especially old Smok. Its hide was covered in scars, and its tail had six wickedly sharp spikes on the tip of its razor ridge-edged tail. The red-brown beast shook off the wreckage of the building it had smashed and looked up…and stopped. It was obviously noticing him with his battle axe resting over one shoulder and the five hundred slayers standing with him.

"Wenceslaus, this is most unexpected," the Smok said in perfect Comnenian. "I hadn't had the displeasure of meeting your blade for some time. A shame you had to bring so many friends, but they won't be enough to stop my comrades."

The massive dragon held out his enormous arms, and dozens of smaller Smokowcy smashed through the remaining buildings. They stopped short at seeing the opposition, not daring divert to the main streets where the infantry was clashing.

"It's been a long time, Iron Claws," Wenceslaus said while drawing his battle axe, "You're not going to break our lines."

"You can try protecting your Smokowcy-murdering empress' plans all you want, but you don't have the numbers to stop us," Iron Claws bellowed.

With shocking speed, the massive Smok whipped around, and Wenceslaus jumped back on instinct. Iron Claws' tail stretched out as he spun around and knocked the top story off the building Wenceslaus had once stood upon with ease. A pair of slayers nearby weren't so lucky, as the spikes on Iron Claws' tail had cut them clean in half.

"If that's how you want to play it, you give me no choice," Wenceslaus shouted. "Slayers, use your Hellenic grenades!"

Iron Claws' budding grin vanished as dozen of flaming grenades were flung into his comrades' ranks. Moments later, Wenceslaus charged straight towards Iron Claws.

* * *

The right flank looked to James to be in tough shape but holding somehow, with slayers and Dragonkin engaging in a deadly close quarters fighting. The ruins of the formerly pristine town were now smoking or ablaze, clouds of black smoke rising far into the sky. James noticed the Grand Alliance was still holding the Tillnitz Heights but hadn't attacked from them yet. The imperial army's center meanwhile was still concealed in fog and behind stone walls. To the left were the wide-open plains where the Grand Alliance was attacking with fury, some three hundred Smokowcy trying to flank the army.

They had been met by one thousand slayers, a force adequate for stopping them but not enough to do so forever. They were desperately fighting each other off the flank of the two closely engaged armies.

Katarzyna was observing this when she put down her telescope and snapped at the nearby signal corps officer, "Order Marshal Massena to turn his cannon upon the Smokowcy off his flanks. I want heavy enfilading fire upon those dragons. It should pressure them into retreat."

The officer frantically relayed the complicated messaged down the lines towards Massena's corps, which were kilometers to their left. The Cesarzowa watched the signal rush across the army, and a minute later there was a sudden change in cannon positioning. It looked to James as if Massena was positioning his artillery in one massive group of hundreds. Another minute passed, and then there was a long line of artillery powder discharges.

"More than a dozen down in the first volley," the Cesarzowa noted approvingly. "There's nothing quite as lethal to Dragonkin as massed cannon fire."

Marshal Singh pointed to the right, "Cesarzowa, the right flank is nearing collapse. Marshals Korsakov and Tokugawa need support now or—"

"Back up Tokugawa with half your force, Marshal Singh," Katarzyna pointed. "Send in two companies of slayers to back up the Crown Princess' force."

"Yes Cesarzowa," Singh acknowledged with a prompt salute.

Wenceslaus flung himself forward, arms outstretched. A massive claw smashed into the cobblestone street behind him. Wenceslaus scrambled to his feet as a roar of fury rang out. Wenceslaus turned to find Iron Claws twisting around to slash with the other arm. He swung his massive battle axe to meet one of the claws, and the tip of Iron Claws' index finger came clean off, a spurt of black blood spilling out onto the street.

Iron Claws bellowed in pain at the minor injury, "Du Schwein! Ich werde dein Arm abreißen!"

Iron Claws spun around with incredible speed, his whip-like tail glancing off Wenceslaus' battle axe, causing him to lose grip. The battle axe clanged onto the cobblestone street in the direction of another Smok. This one was battling four warriors at once, bellowing in pain when one managed to hit it square in the face with a Hellenic grenade. The damage was more superficial than anything else, but the distraction was priceless.

As the Smok reached to fling the burning liquid off its face, the warriors cut the tendons and ligaments in the back of its legs. He toppled chest-first onto the street, hitting the ground with a tremendous thud. The warriors were gathering for a death blow when Wenceslaus saw Iron Claws rushing towards the Smok to save it. Iron Claws spun, and immediately Wenceslaus knew he meant to kill the warriors with his lethal tail.

"Duck!"

The four warriors never stood a chance as Wenceslaus' superb reflexes just barely allowed him to dive under the tail. He landed on his belly and grasped his battle axe, kicking out onto his feet to find the four slayers cut in two. All around him there were countless human bodies, numerous dead slayer bodies, occasional mounds of dead Dragonkin, and all around the town's ruins were smoldering.

He saw Iron Claws recovering from his spin and didn't wait for him to attack. Wenceslaus rushed over to the half-disabled Smok, cutting off one defending hand at the wrist and then rushed to the neck, where he severed the spine with one great blow. A deafening roar of fury blasted over him, and he just barely jumped out of the way of Iron Claws' retaliatory slash.

This time two more Dragonkin joined Iron Claws, flanking him to either side. The ensuing battle was unfair to say the least: three Dragonkin, one of them the second-strongest member of the entire tribe, against a single slayer. He breathlessly dodged a series of attacks, only for the bottom side of a Smok's tail to connect with his chest armor. All the breath was driven from his body, and he could feel broken ribs as he groggily staggered to his knees.

His vision was blurred, his torso awash in staggering pain, his balance askew, his mind confused, and his hearing was oddly distorted. It was only slowly improving when he just made out Iron Claws' fangs as he chortled in amusement.

"The great Wenceslaus is laid low at last," Iron Claws declared, clearly enjoying himself as he towered over Wenceslaus. "I'll put an end to your misery, you—"

A flash of movement and a surprised growl from Iron Claws was Wenceslaus' clue that things had been interrupted. His vision cleared enough to see Rima and three Silver Guards holding on for dear life to swords impaled into Iron Claws' side. The enormous Smok frantically rolled, but Rima and her bodyguards pulled free just in time. They jumped off and dodged being squashed by the male Smok's body.

Wenceslaus was helped to his feet by a black-skinned male Silver Guard while gasping for breath. Feeling constricted, Wenceslaus ripped off his smashed steel cuirass, but its clattering was drowned out by the dying bellow of a Smok. Wenceslaus noticed as he gasped for breath that both of Iron Claws' nearby comrades had been attacked by the Silver Guard. One was sprawled out on his side, a dozen blades embedded into his side and neck. The other was lying upon his belly, and it appeared that a slayer had just administered the finishing blow to the vertebrae.

Rima rushed up, looking concerned as she held out her bloodied sword, "You look a mess, Wenceslaus. Take a few minutes at least to heal yourself while we take care of this."

Iron Claws bellowed as he clambered to his massive feet, the ground shaking from the impact. The Silver Guard immediately formed into a loose formation facing the huge Smok with their halberds, claymores, katanas, battle axes and poleaxes. Rima turned to look at Iron Claws, who was edging away from the Silver Guard as his index finger began to visibly regenerate. Iron Claws sniffed in disgust upon spotting Rima.

"So it's the foul witch at last," Iron Claws sneered in his gravelly voice. "You took my daughter from me, and I swear if it costs me my life I will get her back and tear you into pieces!"

"You're outmatched, Iron Claws," Rima pointed out.

It was at that moment that a bugle call cut through the noise of battle blowing for retreat.

"Not for long, you foul kidnapper," Iron Claws sneered.

"Back to the third line, fall back to the third line," Marshal Korsakov's voice rang out.

"That's right you little coward, run," Iron Claws hissed.

Rima grabbed Wenceslaus by the arm when dozens of retreating slayers ran past the Silver Guard, followed distantly behind by over a hundred lumbering Smokowcy. The Silver Guard warily covered their retreat back to their second-to-last defensive line.

Rima despaired, "If we don't get reinforcements in a few minutes, the Grand Alliance is going to break our right flank!"

* * *

James knew things were tough on the right flank as the blast of cannon fire came less regularly from Marshal Korsakov's troops. Smoke was rising from the town as the troops retreated to yet another defensive line. The Cesarzowa was observing the battle intensely, as the left flank was holding up ably to the Grand Alliance's assault. She put down her telescope as a signals officer rushed up.

"Cesarzowa, Marshal Korsakov says the flank is in immediate danger," the man declared.

"Tell the Marshal to hold the line at all costs; Vice Marshal Suvorov will arrive with 40,000 men and a full company of slayers in ten minutes. He has to hold that last line until then. Tell Marshal Tokugawa to keep up the enfilading fire into the enemy ranks."

"Yes, Cesarzowa," the young man said, saluting before rushing off.

"They've upped their commitment to the left flank," Katarzyna remarked. "They've added another 50,000 men and 100 Smokowcy to the assault. If we can just hold them a bit longer—"

The signal officer rushed back and saluted again, "Marshal Massena is requesting reinforcements to help hold the left flank. He says Duke Djugashvili doesn't think they can hold the flank much longer against the—"

Katarzyna snapped, gesturing dramatically from her warhorse's saddle for silence, "You can tell Sergei that Wenceslaus is not only not complaining, but he's helping hold the right flank with even fewer men. Tell Massena he'll get indirect relief in a few minutes."

The signal officer looked flummoxed, "Cesarzowa?"

"Tell Marshal Massena that as soon as Suvorov arrives he'll see his relief," the empress declared. "I can see Suvorov's standards already."

Sure enough, heading at full speed towards the right flank were the standards of two divisions on a distant road. James could just barely make out the men as the wind began picking up and the fog just began to start clearing. They were still at least a kilometer away from the front lines though by James' estimate. If Suvorov was going to save the situation he was going to have to hurry.

* * *

Wenceslaus had just barely healed his ribs enough to breathe properly and grabbed his battle axe. He emerged from the makeshift field hospital and rushed onto the cobblestone street, where a steady stream of injured men was being rushed back from the front lines. They were only two blocks distant, the roar of cannon and Dragonkin almost deafening despite the distance.

Marshal Korsakov was rallying some of the men nearby when he spotted Wenceslaus and rushed over.

Korsakov yelled, "What're ya doin'? Help the Crown Princess before she's overwhelmed!"

Wenceslaus knew things had to be dire if the Silver Guard had been fully committed to holding the lines. He rushed down the narrow streets until he found the infantry's front lines, a quartet of cannon firing down the long boulevard. Using a massive burst of Yoma energy, he managed to clear the four-story buildings and land upon a low-angled tiled roof.

He felt Rima's yoki spiking, which meant she was going full-out; not a good sign. He rushed over the rooftops and suddenly had to duck some flying debris. A pair of Silver Guards jumped over him just as a Smok's tail missed them. He swung his battle axe, and cut off the six spikes and the tip of the tail. The tail's owner cried out in pain and then rushed towards the safety of his comrades.

The scene was brutal, as over a hundred slayers and the remaining members of the Silver Guard had engaged some thirty plus Smokowcy. There was no sign of Iron Claws in the midst of Liberec's ruins, but the fights were fast going the wrong way. The buildings just beyond were utterly smashed, their four-story frames reduced to ground level. Wenceslaus jumped off the last line of undamaged buildings and onto the plain of battle.

Rima and six of her bodyguards were desperately engaged with a trio of Smokowcy, all of whom seemed very intent on killing her. They were a few hundred meters away, and Wenceslaus bolted into action when Rima just barely dodged a Smok's attempt to smash her with the palm of its massive hand. Rima scrambled and just managed to make a flying leap out of the way of another Smok's follow-up slash.

Rima landed only a few meters away from the third Smok, whose attempt to crush her beneath its feet was cut short by two Silver Guards impaling their blades into either side of its thighs. It whipped around and rolled, both guards managing to pull free in time as the Smok rolled into a brick building and leveled it. Rima was just getting to her feet when the second Smok rushed up.

Wenceslaus swung his battle axe downwards, intercepting the Smok's outstretched hand from the side and batting it down onto the ground. The Smok attempted to slash him with the other hand, but Wenceslaus somersaulted underneath the attack. He got to his feet and rushed to the Smok's legs, severing the right leg's tendons with a single hack of the battle axe.

The Smok nearly fell upon him but managed to hold itself up with one hand. Wenceslaus rushed to safety and looked back to see Rima administering the death blow to the Smok's neck. The creature stilled, but its two comrades roared in fury, rushing towards them. Rima waved for a retreat, which Wenceslaus followed, easily pulling away from the pursuit.

As they rushed over the undamaged buildings further back, Rima turned right and rushed across the rooftops. Three cannons were being towed down the street at speed by mounted horses, while a fourth was stubbornly staying put with some rearguard infantry. A Smok was bearing down upon the cannon and its crew at a full run.

The young corporal in charge was directing his men when most of them ran off, terrified at the doom coming straight towards them. Wenceslaus landed just behind Rima in the street when the corporal kept going, jamming the canister shot down with a metal rammer. He rushed around to the back of the gun and lit the fuse. The nearby infantry were running for their lives back to the fourth and final defensive line when the cannon discharged. The Smok made a mournful noise as the canister shot tore into it, blood and small bits of hide flying all over. It toppled and fell mere meters from the cannon with a tremendous tremor.

Rima directed a few members of the Silver Guard to finish the gasping Smok, which was done within moments.

Rima shouted at the astonished remaining infantrymen, "Don't just stand there, help the man move the cannon back to our final line!"

The infantrymen rushed to the corporal's aid, limbering the cannon to the horses and rushed back towards the very edge of Liberec. Rima waved for a retreat just as Smokowcy emerged further down the boulevard and began running towards them.

Wenceslaus was almost gasping for breath when he got back to the final line on the edge of town, and suddenly he noticed far more cannon and men than had been present minutes earlier. Korsakov was talking to a young officer, both of them promptly saluting when the Crown Princess rushed up with her forty remaining Silver Guards.

"Crown Princess, this is Vice Marshal Suvorov," Korsakov said, gesturing to the thin-framed man in fine armor besides him.

Suvorov had a thin, boyish chin, blue eyes, was not particularly tall, and his appearance was not helped by slightly unkempt hair. But there was dynamism in the way he flamboyantly bowed to the Crown Princess.

Suvorov declared, "I have arrived with forty thousand men and a full company of slayers to reinforce the lines. Once we stop their charge, we will counterattack."

Rima's eyes widened in disbelief as she mouthed, "Counterattack?"

Korsakov spoke up, "The Cesarzowa has 50,000 men under Marshal Singh and all 100,000 men of the Imperial Guard in reserve. She intends to counterattack once we stop the Smokowcy charge and take the fight to the enemy."

They were interrupted by the last untouched line of buildings in Liberec being smashed apart by a line of over two hundred Smokowcy. Following behind were hundreds of thousands of infantrymen. Given the circumstances, Wenceslaus couldn't imagine how the Cesarzowa thought a counterattack was in any way a possibility.

Suvorov snapped into action as Wenceslaus, Rima and the Silver Guard ran behind the reformed lines of pikemen and cannons.

Suvorov shouted out as he mounted his horse, pointing towards the Dragonkin, "Steady your lines boys, we break them here. Artillery, prepare to fire double-canister shot!"

The imperial army was situated just a couple hundred meters from the edge of town, the cannons having a clear field of fire. There looked to be more cannons than Smokowcy, but Wenceslaus wasn't certain that would be enough. Several of the Dragonkin hesitated seeing the artillery ranged in opposition. The crews rushed to finish loading the canister shot as the enemy's beasts bored down upon them. Wenceslaus knew the remaining five hundred slayers in opposition wouldn't be enough to stop them, so it was all on the cannons.

They roared as they came, but under Suvorov's direction and Korsakov's watchful eyes the artillery crews worked seamlessly. Then, with the nearest Smok within a hundred meters of their lines, the crews signaled they were ready.

Korsakov bellowed, "Artillery, fire!"

The blasts of cannon were deafening as they tore into the Smokowcy front ranks. Amazingly, several of the Smokowcy still managed to keep going, staggering forward at a snail's pace after being shot, their hides covered in torn skin and oozing blood. The blasts stopped as the last cannon fired, and just under half of the enemy's beasts were rushing forward, unwounded. The remainder was struggling after being shot, others' dead bodies slowing the charge.

Suvorov shouted, "Slayers, counterattack!"

Wenceslaus rushed forward leading 100 fresh warriors, the odds slightly in their favor. He held out his battle axe and swung.

* * *

Katarzyna was observing the impact of Suvorov's troops, her telescope coming down when she was satisfied. Marshal Singh for once began showing the barest hint of a grin upon his face as he sat upon his horse beside her. James was observing all of this on his own warhorse, just behind and to their right. They were in a grassy knoll at the bottom of the Tillnitz Heights, where a few Grand Alliance units and Dragonkin could be seen milling around. One of the enemy's cannons managed a shot, the round falling a few hundred meters to the empress' left.

"Cesarzowa, we're in range of their artillery," Marshal Singh reminded. "We should retreat to someplace safer for now."

The empress turned her horse and prodded it back into the thinning fog. Within a minute they had arrived before the members of the Imperial Guard. These veterans were superbly equipped with arms, armor, and plenty of cannon. It was the thirteen hundred silver-eyed warriors lined up before the Imperial Guard that took James' breath away.

The empress pointed towards the thinly guarded Tillnitz Heights in the center of the enemy's lines, "Soldiers and warriors, we are going to take the fight to our enemy. In a few minutes, you will take the Tillnitz Heights. The enemy has overcommitted to attacking our right flank, and in doing so has stripped their center of troops. Your attack will not only deal them a huge blow to morale, but threaten to cut their army in two!"

James found his mouth hanging open; she'd purposely weakened the right flank to entice the enemy into attacking them where she wanted. Despite the enemy's best efforts, the right flank had held, the left was holding up even better, and the Grand Alliance had left their army open to a counterattack smashing through their center. Katarzyna had gone against all conventional military tactics in military history by abandoning the high ground, outnumbered to boot, and she was about to launch the winning blow attacking the high ground despite all the odds against her. The word 'brilliant' didn't quite cover it in James' opinion.

"Slayers, you will hit them as a massed force before the infantry arrives," the Cesarzowa shouted, her voice growing hoarse. "Press the attack!"

Thirteen companies of warriors rushed off at a run towards the heights as the Imperial Guard marched past at double-pace in full formation. There were cheers of "long live the empress" as the men rushed past, eager to deal the Grand Alliance the coup de grace. The fog was finally gone now, and as the men and slayers began ascending the Tillnitz Heights into the glare of an auburn sun.


	15. Chapter 14: Into the Auburn Sun

**Chapter 14: Into the Auburn Sun**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Battle that Changed the World"**

**By A. Comnenus**

**When Katarzyna Romanowa successfully pulled off her coup in Visegrad, she was immediately confronted by hastily gathered armies of alliance loyalists. Thanks largely to her prestige in the allied armies and Field Marshal Poniatowski's help, most of the Alliance's professional armies pledged allegiance to Katarzyna. The major problem was that they were mostly defending the borders far from Visegrad. Thankfully for her, Katarzyna's coup had occurred around the emergence of mass warfare, with huge numbers of easily trained and equipped pikemen, halberdiers, and crossbowmen dominating the battlefields.**

**Katarzyna saw an opportunity to wage an altogether different kind of war. As the loyalists' revolts gained strength, the empress did something unprecedented. In all territories controlled by her armies, she had the world's first levee en masse conscription of all men between the ages of 17 and 30. Thanks to the era's infantry-dominant tactics of pike and halberd formations protected by crossbowmen, she was able to arm and train her conscript armies rapidly. This proved vital to holding the frontiers against massive Grand Alliance attacks. It also allowed her to utterly annihilate the loyalist armies with overwhelming numbers.**

**As the Imperial Romanow Army took shape, Romanowa added another key element; professional officers. Almost all armies till this point had been commanded by unqualified aristocrats captaining poorly motivated soldiers. A nation at arms being commanded by men who merited their positions made a large difference in morale and results. While she crushed the domestic insurrections, the more competent army that emerged was twice as large as its predecessors. As the empire solidified, the growing Imperial Romanow Army's training, arms, and armor steadily improved, which, along with their quickly growing numbers, alarmed the Grand Alliance's military commanders.**

**Borrowing a page from the empress, they began conscripting their own citizens, and knowing they had far greater reserves of manpower, hoped to win a war of attrition. They even began to allow lower nobility to rise to higher ranks on merit, which was a true revolution in the Grand Alliance's reactionary military. Unfortunately for the alliance's reformers, none of the top commanders were willing to follow Katarzyna's next innovation; light, mobile field guns.**

**What the empress had learned was that it was, in fact, the light field guns that were the most deadly. They packed enough firepower to grievously wound a Dragonkin, could fire 3-5 times as many shots as their larger cousins, were much more mobile, and their lesser expense allowed them to be built in much greater numbers. Instead of saddling her artillery corps with slow-moving 12 and 24 pounders, then the standards of the day, Katarzyna downsized the artillery, equipping her armies with 4, 6, 8, and 10 pound guns. Instead of one cannon per 1000 infantrymen, Katarzyna's armies were equipped with six cannons per 1000 infantrymen, a truly revolutionary change in battlefield firepower.**

**South of Praha her armies would need all the firepower they could get, as 1,000 Smokowcy seemed to be a truly unstoppable force when backed by nearly a million men. Worse still for the Romanow Empire, the 3500 slayers they had on hand were insufficient to stop that number of Smokowcy. The battle hinged on whether Katarzyna's bet that more guns would work against the venerable, fast-thinking Smokowcy…**

* * *

James' horse was gingerly stepping over the dead bodies, it made a small jump, and then it reached the hill's crest. The horse halted before it walked into the massive stallion upon which sat the Cesarzowa. She was observing the left flank of the battle through a bronze telescope, surrounded on all sides but her front by Silver Guards on horseback.

They had taken the Tillnitz Heights with almost ridiculous ease, some 150,000 men and 1300 slayers smashing through the Grand Alliance's thinly-held lines. Katarzyna had not messed around; it had been sheer, overwhelming force. The effect had been to cut through the Grand Alliance's center like a hot knife through butter.

Only as James looked out past the bodies being dragged off the hill by soldiers could he see the Grand Alliance's reserves. They were waiting several kilometers away, regrouping with the remnants of the enemy's center. If James was in command, he would have kept going. It was a thought that evidently struck Marshal Singh, for he spoke up.

The finely turbaned Marshal, who was mounted to Katarzyna's right, opined, "Why have we stopped? We've taken the heights, we should press our advantage while we—"

"No," the empress stated flatly, holding up her armored right hand. "We risk overextending our attack and opening up our salient's flanks to counterattack. That's exactly what their top general would do if I followed your advice."

Singh's features contorted in confusion, "Who?"

James followed the empress' gesture and found a dozen tiny but gloriously dressed figures in his telescope, none of their faces discernible at such distance.

"You'll see him if you look at their center, Marshal," Katarzyna informed her shorter subordinate. "The first general I ever faced in combat, Norihiro Funahashi, uncle to the new Osakan emperor, Junichiro. If I made them desperate enough by attacking now, they would turn over command to him. I can't afford for the four glory-seeking emperors to come to their senses just yet. I need them to counterattack and try to salvage their honor."

James felt his jaw slackening, as he may have underestimated her again. She had not only lured her enemies into one trap, but in springing that trap had laid another. The imperial army now held the Tillnitz Heights, and James knew how difficult it ordinarily was to defeat an enemy on higher ground. It was for this very reason she wanted them to attack.

Katarzyna put her telescope down, "Signal Marshals Nusayr and Massena that their artillery support will arrive within a few minutes. Tell them to keep up their counterattacks until then. I want the enemy under pressure when the barrages hit."

James glanced back and noticed hundreds of cannon ascending the Tillnitz Heights, each cannon being pulled forward by teams of horses with their crews mounted upon them. If the enemy was going to counterattack, they would have to hurry, for the artillery would soon be raining down upon them. Even as he glanced back he noticed a flag officer running through the lines of pikemen and crossbowmen towards the empress.

The young man saluted his empress, "Cesarzowa, Marshals Korsakov and Tokugawa are counterattacking on the right flank as ordered. They are taking heavy casualties and say they need immediate artillery support."

"Tell them to hold the line at all costs," Katarzyna ordered.

Singh spoke up after the man left, "Cesarzowa, forgive me, but what are we waiting for here? Should we not divert our troops and press into the enemy's flanks?"

"In about half an hour, Marshal Singh, the greatest charge of Smokowcy ever seen on this planet will hit our lines right here."

Almost on cue, James saw dozens of Dragonkin leaving the flanks, rushing back to join the hundreds left in reserve. Even at great distances they were hard to miss, especially since he could feel a slight shake in the ground from their collective weight.

"I intend to be ready for them," the empress explained.

* * *

Wenceslaus' slayer battalion was in the midst of pushing forward against the enemy's retreating Dragonkin, who were proving far harder to kill than desired. Despite taking double canister shots at a hundred meters, none of them had died outright. Instead they had played dead as the slayers had re-engaged the enemy on the right flank. Many of the Dragonkin had gotten up behind them and attacked despite bleeding all over. If he hadn't barked out a warning immediately, it could have been a disaster.

Instead they had charged back just in time to save the artillery crews and infantry from being savaged. Thanks in part to their greater speed and the grievously wounded state many of the Smokowcy were in, they took out a good number before they retreated for real this time. Moments later, the signal for an all-out counterattack had gone out.

Wenceslaus secured his enormous battle axe to his back as he ran through the countless bodies strewn in the smoldering rubble that was once the town of Liberec. Behind he could hear the trudging march of thousands of imperial infantrymen.

"There they go, the cowards," the long-haired Minhe-Choung Park shouted, pointing at the last of the Dragonkin rushing through the enemy's parted lines. "Ha, they can't take the heat of our cannons. Onwards, we'll hit their lines at a full charge!"

"Minhe, I don't think that's the best—"

His objection died as Minhe rushed off, hundreds of silver-eyed slayers following, weapons at the ready. He reluctantly followed, knowing a half-hearted attack was a terrible way to win a battle. He unsheathed his battle axe and waved his slayers forward as the imperial army advanced behind them and the bellow of cannons drowned out the battle cries of men.

He noticed as he advanced that the Grand Alliance men ahead were forming up into battle lines. The pikemen had gotten into formation five hundred meters distant, and within their ranks were the hulking two-handed swordsmen, the Landsknects. But there was some movement behind them, and it was only when he heard countless twangs that he knew what was coming.

Wenceslaus began rushing the other direction, waving his warriors back as countless arrows darkened the auburn sky.

Minhe's shout came from the distance, "Wenceslaus, you coward, come on!"

Wenceslaus glanced back to see Minhe desperately deflecting arrows as other warriors nearby cried out in pain upon being pierced. A few weren't so lucky and had taken arrows to the face, falling dead almost instantly.

"We can't waste our strength against their foot soldiers," Wenceslaus shouted, deflecting a pair of arrows with the flat of his axe.

A slayer not far from Minhe blew his trumpet for an orderly retreat, and soon Minhe was grudgingly heading back, dodging and deflecting countless arrows. He felt a pounding of feet upon the ground, the earth quaking as they came closer from behind him. He had only retreated a hundred meters when he was surprised to see imperial crossbowmen setting their shields into the ground. They were preparing to unleash counter-volleys behind the safety of their shields.

Wenceslaus commanded the survivors of the arrow onslaught, "Back, back behind the shields! Quickly now, get to safety!"

The remaining slayers rushed with him to get behind the large pavise shields of the crossbowmen. Marshal Korsakov was walking just behind them, behind the safety of the shields and countless thousands of men. Wenceslaus saluted Korsakov as the first row of crossbowmen a dozen meters away unleashed the first volley. Korsakov ducked behind a shield as a massed volley from enemy archers hit the formation. The shields did their work though, and easily kept the vast majority of men and slayers uninjured.

"Sir, I appreciate the support," Wenceslaus said.

Korsakov berated him like the sergeant he once was, "Why the devil did you order a charge against a prepared infantry position? Hell boy, can you not see their goddamn longbowmen?"

Wenceslaus was glad he did not have much of a temper, for it was terribly insulting for a slayer of his age to be called boy.

"Sir, I called off the advance, but Commander Park urged an attack, and so—"

Korsakov bellowed at an aide, "Get me that fucking woman! The effin' bastards know they can counter your kind without Dragonkin, and here we go walking right into their plans of killing you off with longbowmen! Well it ain't fuckin' going to happen again! You will answer to my commands directly now or the empress will hear of it!"

Wenceslaus knew better than to offer an old fire-breather like Korsakov backtalk, "Of course Marshal, I would never dream of refusing your orders."

Minhe rushed up, dodging another incoming volley of arrows by rushing behind the shield protecting Korsakov. She sloppily saluted, clearly annoyed at being summoned.

"I swear on the lives of my men, Commander Park, that if you go charging off into the teeth of a prepared enemy one more fucking time, I'll have you court-martialed," Korsakov chewed the astonished slayer out.

Wenceslaus knew why she was shocked; almost no one, even in the days before the empress, dared to berate an ultra-elite warrior.

"I shan't be talked to in such a—"

"Hold your cursed tongue, witch," Korsakov barked, "We've lost dozens of slayers thanks to your charge against prepared longbowmen, so if you want to object to my orders, you can explain why to the empress herself. I will not fucking tolerate your backtalk. You are relieved of command."

The last words hit Minhe like a thunderbolt, "You… you can't do that!"

"I am the Marshal of the 4th Imperial Army Corps, and you will do as you are told, miss," Korsakov snapped, "you are dismissed, now go!"

Wenceslaus subtly stood next to Korsakov, making certain that Minhe could not help but notice the Marshal's immediate backing. Minhe, looking aggravated, bowed and left for the rear without a word. She trudged across the ruins of Liberec and as she neared the lines of infantry they parted hastily, knowing the dangers of an angry slayer. Wenceslaus would not have dismissed her, but she was a better fighter than she was a leader, so the reasoning was sound.

Vice Marshal Suvorov ran up and saluted the white-haired Korsakov, "Sir, they've brought up Hwachas!"

"Get the crossbowmen back to our lines and hold fast! Wenceslaus, you're in command of Commander Park's battalion as well now. Get them back under cover and keep them from panicking," Korsakov snapped, pointing back towards the readied pikemen.

A moment later the first screaming rockets flew over the Grand Alliance's lines in innumerable and thick jets of flame and white smoke. They were rushing towards the crossbowmen, who were panicking already as they turned to flee.

* * *

Kasia was wearing her finest armor and tight silk outfit underneath. Strictly speaking, it wasn't the sort of thing a warrior was supposed to wear. By all rights, she should have been wearing padded leather underneath, but Kasia was not about to let Alexander off with treating her like an ordinary warrior. She was, after all, having a secret relationship with him that went considerably farther than being his mistress. Alexander however seemed rather anxious at her choice in clothes as his blue eyes looked her over.

"Kasia," he groaned, "you shouldn't be wearing silk! We're supposed to present our latest creations to Field Marshal—"

Kasia nonchalantly asked, "I suppose those commissions were going to get finished on their own without me helping improve your work ethic, right?"

The frown on Alexander's face lasted a moment until a pair of male servants walked by, nodded respectfully, and moved on further down the immense royal palace's main hall. They were standing not far from the main entrance, where light was filtering down in an almost heavenly way upon them. It was almost enough to make her forget how annoying she found Alexander's persistent procrastination; almost, but not quite.

"Kasia," Alexander hissed, "I appreciate you pushing me to finish things, but silk?"

Kasia sheathed her enormous claymore into its gilded sheath on her back, "A girl likes fine things, and besides, it's black silk. You're being too paranoid, as I doubt anyone will notice when I'm wearing a steel cuirass and helmet. Besides, everyone's eyes so far today have been stuck to that ridiculous jacket of yours."

The jacket to which she was referring was a gaudy red, black and yellow, and its coattails only served to make it more ridiculous in Kasia's eyes. Besides this Alexander was wearing knee-length red trousers, white tights below the knees, and silver-buckle black shoes. It was not what Kasia liked seeing Alexander wearing.

"I'm meeting the Field Marshal, I need to look good," Alexander said, defensive.

"James would not have worn anything so gaudy," Kasia disapproved.

Alexander huffed, "Did your ex obey you in everything? The way you describe him it sounds like you walked all over him and he just rolled over. I get you jewelry, books, maps, language tutors, and yet it's never enough!"

"It's only fair for you taking advantage of me in the beginning," Kasia snapped.

"I've apologized for that over a dozen times, would you just leave it be?"

"Fine," Kasia sighed, "but don't expect me to approve of you hunting with your father."

"I can't just refuse the King," Alexander said, exasperated.

"It's obscene," Kasia lectured, "we just lost over a hundred thousand men bailing out Sultan Bahadurs's crumbling empire again and meanwhile your father shows his priorities by going stag hunting . It's almost as if he doesn't realize we're at war with—"

Kasia stopped speaking as he stood awkwardly paused with a hand on his hair, staring straight ahead.

Walking briskly towards them out of the main entrance hall was a familiar salt-and-pepper-haired man. He was not a large man, being only of average stature, but he had a commanding presence. The man was clearly a military officer, as he wore a fine blue and gold-rimmed cape, an ornate cuirass adorned with medals, and military-style, calf-length boots. It was none other than Field Marshal Antoni Poniatowski.

Following him in well-trimmed black leather and combat armor was a single, even more familiar slayer of similar stature. This slayer had gray hair with two parted bangs, the rest of her hair pinned into a ponytail. It was Kasia's dear friend and mentor, Katarzyna Yushchenka.

Poniatowski smiled as he walked up, nodding as he shook Alexander's hand.

"It's good to see you again Your Highness," Poniatowski said. "I must say I was pleasantly surprised to receive your invitation. Unfortunately, the Grand Alliance just launched a new offensive into Bengal, so we'll have to keep this brisk."

"Oh, well of course," Alexander murmured, "this way then."

Katarzyna walked up to Kasia and whispered, "What's with the silk?"

Alexander exchanged a knowing glance with Kasia before he walked ahead of them.

"I thought I told you to try to keep your relationship a secret," Katarzyna hissed.

"He's fourth in line to the throne behind his three older brothers; no one's going to notice if his slayer bodyguard likes wearing black silk under her armor."

"If the slayers guarding the queen see you in silk, you're going to regret your love of fine things," Katarzyna lectured, "just don't do anything stupid and get yourself more involved, Kasia. Alexander isn't a safe person to love like James was; he's a prince in the second most powerful royal family in the alliance."

"I'm not going to get married," Kasia whispered back.

Katarzyna glared over at her unhappily, "don't even think about that, Kasia."

Her chance to reply was stolen when they left the palace's marble and gold-gilded interior for the bright sunshine of the outdoors. An immense brick terrace stretched out before the four of them, a number of cannon and other objects on display in a line. Alexander led the field marshal to the smallest cannon, which Poniatowski was regarding with polite bemusement.

Alexander stammered, "This… this is… Kasia, which one is this again?"

Kasia stepped up next to the cannon, knowing Alexander was suffering yet another bout of stage fright. It was this apparent lack of courage that she found somewhat annoying.

Kasia pointed to the small cannon, "Field Marshal, we based this cannon on the captured Bretonese guns that you sent to us. The astounding thing is the Bretonese cannons look to be nearly a century ahead of ours. They used cast iron to create this gun over here."

There was a massive cannon right next to the small one Kasia was touching that Poniatowski looked at intently. It was far longer than Kasia was tall, and the top of its wheels reached the same height as her shoulders.

"To be quite honest, the Bretonese are wasting their time with this gun in the field. It has to be pulled by twelve horses, and even then they can't run with it. I remember you saying in your letter that it was your lighter field guns that inflicted the most casualties, so we took your advice and reverse-engineered the Bretonese gun here to fit."

Poniatowski looked quizzically at Alexander, "You have a most unusual bodyguard. Does she really help forge and create cannon?"

Alexander scratched the back of his head, "Well…"

"Alexander knows female slayers are different," Kasia explained.

There was an audible inhalation of air from Katarzyna, who was looking at Kasia with a very unhappy expression. Kasia was about to ask why when her mentor walked over.

Katarzyna whispered in one ear, "I know you feel relaxed around Antoni, but for god's sake start acting like Alexander's female subordinate. Referring to a prince in the familiar sounds both disrespectful and raises Antoni's suspicions about your relationship. Now start acting like the inferior female you are and not his equal."

Kasia sighed, and then continued, "I meant His Highness knows I am different. Now then, this small gun here is a 2-pounder. It fires a 2-pound shot, can be operated by two men, and can towed into battle by a single horse."

"It looks too small to be of use against Dragonkin," Poniatowski commented.

"Well yes, we did consider that, but it weighs only 130 kilograms, so it's cheap and quick to build. Perhaps you can use it as a training gun for artillery crews. The larger gun to its left is more of a usable field gun."

This gun was considerably more robust, with a larger diameter barrel and bigger wheels.

"This is a four-pounder. It weighs 240 kilograms, fires a four-pound shot, can be quickly towed by two horses, needs only a 3-man crew, and can still fire five times as many shots over an hour as a 24-pounder."

Kasia went down the ever larger line of cannon they'd created, starting with the six-pounder, followed by eight-pounder, and then finally the ten and twelve-pounders. Poniatowski looked impressed by their creations, which were far more usable in her opinion than the near-immobile 24 pounders so often seen in sieges. Unlike those guns, these cannons were light enough to be moved quickly and had the firepower to still do incredible damage.

"I must say I'm thrilled with your work, Prince Alexander," the Field Marshal complimented, slapping Alexander on the back. "I'm a little concerned about the cost though."

"I wouldn't worry about it sir," Kasia reassured, "a cast iron cannon costs one fourth as much as a brass one. Another advantage is one cast can be reused multiple times to forge new cannons, unlike with brass casts. We also copied the Bretonese all-in-one powder and shot cartridges. Here, I'll show you one."

Kasia picked up a metal-wrapped cartridge and shoved it down the 12 pounder's barrel. She rammed it home with the ramming pole, lit the fuse, and then stepped back. The cannon fired over the stone terrace. Far in the distant law strewn with targets the cannonball hit the ground in a spray of dirt.

Poniatowski was smiling as he asked, "That's got a far greater range than any cannon I've ever commanded."

Alexander for once managed to speak up, "Well… your old guns had a maximum range of around 550 meters. The 12-pounder and the others… they have… they have a maximum range of just over a thousand meters."

"You have my sincere thanks Prince Alexander," Poniatowski said, shaking Alexander's hand vigorously. "But have you anything that might stop a concentrated Dragonkin attack?"

Alexander looked flummoxed, "A concentrated attack?"

"When Smokowcy are absolutely determined to break our lines they form up in a deep group and let their front ranks take the punishment. Then when they are about to hit our lines the fresh middle and rear ranks smash through. It's quite devastating, and so far I have been unable to counter it in the field. In fact, even with many of your new cannon, I doubt I could stop them. You don't have something that might truly stop them?"

Kasia nodded towards a cart nearby, "We also managed to repair the Grand Alliance's latest weapon, the Hwacha. It has two hundred small tubes, each of which contains an arrow with a gunpowder rocket attached. It has a maximum range of roughly half a kilometer and you'll see it's quite fearsome."

Alexander lit the master fuse to the wheeled rocket cart, its tubes pointing up and towards the field a hundred meters distant. After twenty seconds the first arrow rocketed off in a fiery show of white smoke and flame. It was soon followed in a vicious volley by 198 peers, with the last arrow rocket failing to leave the launcher. The rockets sped over the field in a dense but expanding group, impacting or exploding over the ground.

"Impressive, but that's not going to be good enough," Poniatowski pointed out.

"There is one more thing," Kasia noted.

She grabbed a fire-thrower Alexander had been toying with over the past few years. She opened its ignition spigot on its front, lit it with a match, and then motioned for everyone to stand back. Kasia approached a scarecrow she'd set up on a whim earlier and pushed the pump forward. A jet of flaming liquid flew out onto the ground and finally onto the scarecrow twenty meters away. Within seconds there was little left of the scarecrow but smoking remains.

"Now that," Poniatowski gasped, "is what we need. Can you make it any larger, Your Highness? I'd prefer if I could mount that weapon on wheels like we do our cannons."

Alexander asked, "What do you think, could we make a larger version on wheels?"

Kasia sniffed, "It will take awhile, but we should be able to make a much larger version, so don't worry dear."

Too late Kasia realized what she had just said. Before anything could go any further though, Dietrich woke up sweating, her heart beating frantically. She found herself in a grand palace bedroom, a little light coming from a crackling fireplace opposite. Dietrich found herself in a strangely familiar small body.

The dreams of the past had not yet stopped, which was causing her endless problems. Unfortunately, due to having lived through eight years of Kasia's memories, she was no longer quite sure of whom she was. One thing was sure; she would never think of herself in the same way again. Dietrich found herself in a loose-fitting white nightgown as she got up and walked to a large chair; she stopped short when she noticed hawk-nosed Jaroslaw Tusk sitting in it.

Dietrich almost jumped, "What are you doing here?"

Jaroslaw turned to look at her with his piercing blue eyes, "I heard you were still recuperating, so I came to see you, Dietrich."

"My name's not Dietrich!"

"You're not the first, you know," Jaroslaw stated, looking her straight in the eyes.

Dietrich wavered, "Not the first what?"

"You've confused your identity with that of Kasia because via your soul-link with her you experienced her memories. There have been many others just like you," Jaroslaw noted. "Would you like to know what happened to them?"

"For the last time—"

Jaroslaw interjected, standing up now, advancing on her in his fine black-and-gold uniform as she backpedaled, "The first documented case was twenty-six years ago, when they first started soul-link research under the direction of Special Operations Command. Since then, there have been sixteen known cases of memory transfer."

"I'm not Dietrich, I'm Kasia," she snapped.

"Mistaken identity is a symptom that has tended to last as short as two weeks and as long as six months amongst those affected. Even through soul-link, it is impossible to transfer one's conscious soul to another body. You haven't had Kasia's soul transfer inside of you; what you have had happen is you have explored her memories."

Dietrich shot back, "I know who I am!"

Dietrich had backed all the way up into the wall as Jaroslaw advanced on her.

"Then why did you never dream once in all those years of memories? Why was it you could only experience her life and not her dreams?"

His words had a horrible, piercing truth to them; not once in all those years of memories had she remembered a dream of any sort.

"Ok, so you're right about the lack of dreams Jaroslaw," Dietrich hissed, unhappy at her identity being undercut, "but that doesn't…"

She trailed off as a thought struck her seeing Tusk in his uniform with her instead of where he ought to have been.

Jaroslaw arched an eyebrow, "You know, if you were really Kasia, you would never have called me Jaroslaw just now."

Dietrich realized something, "Wait a moment, aren't you a Colonel of the 4th Imperial Guard Cavalry or something like that? Why are you here instead on the battlefield?"

"Because they're not my men," Jaroslaw replied.

Dietrich felt a dropping motion in her stomach.

"Then who are—"

Jaroslaw had picked up a candle off the fireplace mantelpiece behind her and held it up to his index finger, lighting up one side but shadowing the other.

Tusk cut her off, "There's a phrase in the Maghrebi world that comes to mind. They say that the shadows are always darkest right next to the candle."

* * *

The blast of the cannons was astonishing, as dozens of them spewed their cannonballs into the Grand Alliance lines. James glanced over in anxiety at the Cesarzowa, who was busily directing the deadly barrage into the Grand Alliance's left flank. Since taking the Tillnitz Heights a mere half hour before, the Cesarzowa had directed every available artillery piece be set upon the heights. From there they were pouring fire into the Grand Alliance army's left and right flanks.

The Grand Alliance for its part was trying to fracture the imperial army's right flank with concentrated Hwacha rocket fire.

"There goes another volley," Katarzyna remarked, observing the battle closely atop her massive steed.

Sure enough, rising from just behind the carnage being inflicted on the Grand Alliance front lines was another ferocious set of arrow rockets from the enemy Hwacha rocket launchers. The rockets shot over their soldiers in a beautiful, deadly arc, spewing copious amounts of white smoke. They landed all over, some hitting the ranks of imperial soldiers, others falling short, and still others caused anxiety as they fell just short of a battery of field artillery. The effect was to nearly panic the men into a rout, with many running for the reserves, although the effect on morale was far greater than the casualties.

"Marshal Singh, signal all batteries within range of the Hwachas to commence firing upon them. I want them taken out before we have a rout on the right flank," the empress shouted, prodding her horse to higher ground.

Well-groomed Marshal Singh shouted out the orders, although given the distance between him and James, as well as the noise of battle, it was impossible to hear anything.

The cannon crews began adjusting the tilt and direction of their guns in earnest, nearly oblivious to the presence of their Cesarzowa meters behind them. The guns were lined up in an ascending line towards the center of the Tillnitz Heights, which were higher still. Behind the guns were thousands of infantrymen and crossbowmen at ready, and in between the two lines was an entire company of the Silver Guard alongside the empress, a few aides, and Marshal Singh. The guns furthest down the hill began to boom just as the smoke hiding the Hwachas began to clear.

Once the volley reached them it spooked the empress' horse, causing it to rise onto its back legs and send the exhausted Cesarzowa off. She hit the ground with a horrifying thud, the Silver Guards nearby gasping in worry and shock. James dismounted, shielding his eyes from the drifting smoke of the cannons, and reached the Cesarzowa. Katarzyna had landed upon her back, wheezing for air, the breath clearly knocked out of her.

James helped her sit up and asked, "Are you alright?"

"So tired," Katarzyna whispered, her eyes blinking rapidly, the exertions of the day clearly catching up to her.

"Then we should—"

"No," she told him firmly, "I did not come here to not finish the battle. Hundreds of millions are depending on the fate of this battle, and I will not let it be said I let them down."

Marshal Singh walked over and extended a helping hand. Grasping onto James and Singh's hands, she pulled herself up with the help of several Silver Guards pushing her up from behind. A moment later the empress was on her feet, dirt stains now apparent on the back of her armor. She nearly fell over once unsupported, so great was her exhaustion.

"Cesarzowa," Marshal Singh said, "I think it would best if you let me continue the battle under my command. With your health what it is, I'm worried—"

"Worry about someone else Marshal," Katarzyna snapped, her energy returning as her indignation was let out, "for I am not going anywhere until the Grand Alliance loses today."

A cheer rose amongst the cannon crews, and for a moment James thought they were cheering the recovery of the empress.

A nearby corporal shouted, "We got 'em, we got the damn Hwachas!"

* * *

James got a glimpse of a relieved smile just visible in the gap of the empress' helmet when an ear-splitting roar interrupted the celebrations.

"No, I don't understand," Dietrich snapped, "why don't you get to the damn point Jaroslaw and quit using cultural allegories I don't understand!"

Jaroslaw had just delivered his candle analogy, which, as she stood there thinking about it in her darkened bedroom, had a meaning about as clear to her as dense soup.

"Dietrich, there's something I have to tell you—"

"You've been lying to me this whole time," Dietrich interjected, "you never were part of the Imperial Guard, were you?"

"Your memory is recovering better than expected," Jaroslaw obfuscated.

"Just answer the question," Dietrich demanded, poking him in the chest.

"No, I was never a member of the Imperial Guard," Jaroslaw admitted with surprising nonchalance.

"So all of that was just a show to impress me, huh," Dietrich grunted.

"I thought it was a rather impressive bit of acting myself," Jaroslaw replied.

"So you just thought you'd impress me with that bit of pathetic…"

Tusk interjected, "If I had really got together a bunch of fake Imperial Guardsmen, would you mind explaining why it is they were not found out immediately by the Silver Guard?"

Dietrich realized there had been nothing at all pathetic about any of her first encounter with the man she knew as Colonel Jaroslaw Tusk. The Imperial Guardsmen were outfitted exactly as they were elsewhere, acted the part, and then there had been the complete lack of reaction from the Silver Guard to the supposed impostor Imperial Guardsmen.

Either Tusk had an amazing supporting cast that had somehow managed to fake out the Silver Guard and position themselves in front of a critically important gate, or the Silver Guard were in on it, or he had access to actual Imperial Guardsmen. All of this meant he was either plotting against the empress or in her direct employ.

"Wait a moment, were those all real Imperial Guardsmen? More importantly, are you even really Jaroslaw Tusk?"

Tusk laughed, "Of course I'm Jaroslaw Tusk, and those were real Imperial Guardsmen."

Dietrich scoffed, "Who are you really?"

Jaroslaw sighed, "I debated telling you about my purpose this last month, really, you are a fine girl, if a bit domineering for my tastes. You're a little bit like the empress in that regard, to be truthful. I felt bad about not being able to tell you, although you probably shouldn't admit to bedding me just so I can drop imperial secrets either."

He tossed a little green diary into her arms, and Dietrich began to feel her blood boil.

"That's my diary!"

Tusk grinned, "You're quite a writer, Dietrich. The Cesarzowa was impressed someone with as little formal education as yourself was so talented at it. We really didn't know what you'd be like when we heard you were coming, so I was tasked with finding out."

Dietrich seethed in indignation, "So you're one of the empress' spies, is that it?"

"I didn't lie before, I really am Colonel Jaroslaw Tusk, Deputy Director of the Imperial Intelligence Service," Jaroslaw stated, dropping a bombshell down upon her. "I am surprised you didn't notice our deceptions earlier. We made certain all the hotels in Visegrad were unavailable, but I was sure you would notice how contrived it sounded for me to have sized you up and then somehow bought fifty outfits for you in mere hours, not to mention somehow drop a note down your cleavage unnoticed."

Dietrich felt the breath leaving her body; she'd been royally had, of that there was no doubt. In her quest to avoid the spies she thought were inside Jaroslaw's household spying upon him, she had totally neglected to consider whether he could be trusted. In doing so she had not only let down Wenceslaus but also fallen straight into the arms of Katarzyna's deputy spymaster. Stupid didn't quite cover the whole extent of her folly.

* * *

"It's him, it's Iron Claws," the Cesarzowa stated decisively, "I know that monstrous body of his from any distance."

James had helped the empress, who was now refusing to ride for fear of being knocked from her horse, to the top of the Tillnitz Heights. There, awaiting them in eerie silence was an enormous line of cannon, behind which was the magnificent body of the Imperial Guard. Fighting was still ongoing on either flank, but the massive artillery support from the edges of the heights was wreaking havoc upon the enemy's plans.

Katarzyna was looking through her telescope, surrounded as ever by Silver Guards and aides, observing an alarmingly large and growing group of Smokowcy. They were clustered in the lowlands, several kilometers away, well out of cannon range. Their mottled red-brown hides made a sharp contrast to the gray ground and the patches of snow. Behind them were the countless thousands in the Grand Alliance reserves, a reminder, as if James needed one, that they were still outnumbered.

A particularly large Smok, dwarfing many of the others, came forward and roared out his challenge to the Cesarzowa. Or so James thought, until moments later the Smokowcy began fanning out to either side, many lines deep. Behind them were gathered the Grand Alliance's reserves, all readying for an assault on the Imperial Romanow Army's center on the Tillnitz Heights.

"This is it," Katarzyna remarked, "they're not holding back like they were earlier. It took us giving them a bloody nose to do it. Marshal Singh, bring the firethrowers forward."

"Yes, Cesarzowa," Singh acknowledged while gesturing back towards the lines of Imperial Guardsmen wielding pikes and halberds.

James was about to say something when he noticed the earth beginning to shake beneath his feet. Below them the hundreds of Smokowcy had begun their run towards the summit of the heights, while following behind were the hundreds of thousands of infantry. James noticed a small rock on the ground beginning to vibrate and gulped.

He looked back to see new machines roughly the size of 10-pounder guns being brought forward. They were cast in expensive brass, and had two large cylinders in their center. These were attached together by two cylindrical joints, and two pumping handles were present as well. The top cylinder was as long as a cannon's barrel, and ended in an ornate dragon's head with a small flame present in its mouth. The cylinders were attached to a platform, which extended as a counterbalance to the long front of the firethrower. To either side of the device were two large wheels, the device looking to be a combination of cannon and the firethrowers he had long ago seen Prince Alexander demonstrate.

They were brought up in between the densely packed cannon, the effect creating a solid wall of deadly machines. Their crews frantically got into position as the Cesarzowa took one last glance over the men.

"Iron Claws will head straight for the imperial banner," Katarzyna reasoned, "I have no doubt of it. We'll set up behind those two ten-pounders, and then we'll see how much killing me really matters to him."

The ground was vibrating more strongly now, the cacophony of the Dragonkin run now audible as they reached the very bottom of the Heights. The rock at James' feet began to jump, the weight of the Dragonkin sending countless tremors through the ground. They began to roar, making their thousands of tons even more intimidating. James looked back to see a large Romanow flag appear, its double-headed golden imperial eagle on black standing out in the auburn sky.

Marshal Singh was near the cannon crews when someone shouted to Singh, "They've hit the kilometer and a half mark sir!"

Singh held up his arm and shouted, "All cannons, commence firing!"

When he dropped his arm, a cacophony beyond James' reckoning let loose as the cannon opened up on the approaching kilometer-wide front of Dragonkin. The crews apparently knew better than him, for they were covering their ears as cannon after cannon rocked backwards and fired, releasing both cannonball and an immense amount of acrid smoke.

The immense initial volley, benefiting from the heights they were upon, hit some of the Dragonkin dead on, while some cannonballs even overshot and tore into the ranks of men behind. Several dozen Dragonkin tumbled, smashing into the ground with tremendous force, something James could both feel beneath his feet and hear as they roared out in agony. This disrupted the flow of the attack, with several other Smokowcy having to run around or tripping upon their injured comrades.

A young artillery officer shouted to Marshal Singh, "Sir, they're not stopping!"

"You can't expect to stop six hundred Smokowcy with one volley when they're three ranks deep," Singh shouted back, "don't worry about it, signal all cannon to fire at will."

James felt perspiration form on his brow as he noticed that despite the incredible volley the back two ranks of Smokowcy had been completely untouched, and many in the front rank were still coming on, both uninjured and even some injured.

The artillery crews frantically began reloading, aware that their lives were literally on the line. Even as James watched though, a few panicky men had dropped their cannonballs and had to pick them up again, slowing down their reloading by precious seconds.

"Sir, I don't know if Idon't know if we can hold the line against that many Dragonkin," the officer from earlier shouted to Marshal Singh.

"We hold the line no matter what," Singh shouted back, "we retreat and this battle is as good as finished."

A tremendous roar rang out as even the cannon began to vibrate a little from the tremendous tremors, and then James saw him. Like something out of a nightmare, his proportions were enormous. Iron Claws had reached the front ranks and was moving forward at a prodigious speed for his kind. His orange eyes were fixated upon the imperial banner as his massive three-toed feet impacted the ground one after the other. He was easily twice as large as most of his comrades; a 100-ton leviathan moving with unstoppable force.

"Kilometer mark," Marshal Singh shouted, "artillery crews adjust aim and fire!"

This time James clasped his hands over his ears, the result only a little less deafening as cannon after cannon launched their second volley. The effect was more gruesome this time, for with the closing distance, the artillery's aim was improving. The 10-pounder in front of James shot for Iron Claws and barely missed, the shot passing left of his head and taking out a much smaller peer in one blow straight through the mouth. Countless other Smokowcy suffered similar fates, but most were merely injured.

Iron Claws redoubled his pace, leading a wedge of his largest brothers straight towards the imperial banner.

The immense male Smok bellowed, "Romanowa, ich werde dich in Stuecke lassen!"

James flinched at Iron Claws' threat to tear the empress into pieces, and began to perspire as the immense Smok came ever closer. The ground by now was shaking like wild as a solid wall of Smokowcy two rows deep kept rushing towards them. James noticed the cannon crews were beginning to look back in alarm. People were looking back at the empress as if expecting an order at any moment to save them.

Marshal Singh shouted, "Don't panic, just put your backs into it and get the next shot ready! The Cesarzowa expects every man to do his duty!"

Katarzyna held up a hand and every man near looked to her, "Marshal Singh, signal all cannon to use canister shot for the next volley."

Singh looked questioningly but rushed the orders out via signal flags, causing the cannon crew to frantically select another type of ammunition. A canister shot was composed of hundreds of little lead balls, effectively turning each of the cannon into a giant shotgun. Shotguns that were almost without fail capable of inflicting terrible wounds upon Dragonkin at close range.

James heartbeat began to race uncontrollably as the Dragonkin closed to eight hundred, then seven, six and finally five hundred meters. With yet another horrendous volley, the line of guns breathed out a lethal present for the oncoming Smokowcy. This time far more Smokowcy were wounded, many being knocked onto their sides by the sheer force of the impacts. A few were even killed outright, the rounds delivering lethal blows to their heads.

Iron Claws was hit in the left side, black blood spraying out as the rounds hit home. Despite the black blood now oozing out of Iron Claws' immense body, he kept going as if he were still uninjured.

The cannon crew began looking back in panic as the majority of the enemy's beasts kept coming, and James knew why. Standing ten meters behind them in companies were large numbers of unbloodied slayers. They looked eager to take the fight to the enemy, but James knew from prior experience that there were only 1300 slayers in reserve, 1400 if one counted the Silver Guards. They simply lacked the numbers to take down such an astonishing amount of Smokowcy, which is why the cannon were thinning the enemy ranks first.

Marshal Singh yelled, "All cannons switch to double canister shot. Firethrowers, wait for my signal to shoot."

The cannon crews were working frantically now and many men looked ready to bolt as the wall of scaled mass headed their way. The firethrower crews in contrast looked impatient to get in range of the enemy.

Iron Claws, not waiting for another volley, threw something he had hidden in his massive right hand. A rock the size of a wagon went flying forward and took out a cannon. It continued bouncing along, and to James' horror was bouncing along on a path intersecting with the empress. The nearest Silver Guard grabbed the Cesarzowa and dove to the side, both of them just barely being missed by the rock. None of the Silver Guard was slow enough to get hit, but the Imperial Guardsmen behind were not so lucky. Dozens of screams rang out as some were crushed, others were knocked aside, and a few were even sent flying.

The Cesarzowa was struggling to her feet when several other Dragonkin all down their front unleashed similar-sized rocks into the line of cannon and the men behind them. It would not be enough to break the lines, as the vast majority of cannon and their crews were unharmed. James noticed in alarm that the cannon guarding the approach to the empress was gone, so he rushed over.

He shouted, "Get her left, behind the other cannon!"

His yell was drowned out by a tremendous combined roar from all the approaching Smokowcy, rendering his warning useless. James didn't wait though; he instead took direct action and rushed over. He hoisted the empress bodily over his shoulders and ran with her despite the outraged squawks from Katja and several other comrades.

The nearest firethrower crew readied as Iron Claws ran within a couple hundred meters of them, charging hell for leather straight for the empress. There was no doubt in James' mind; Iron Claws was absolutely determined to kill her and avenge his daughter Duchess' kidnapping.

He had just gotten the empress behind another cannon when abruptly everything changed.

When Iron Claws' had taken two more steps the firethrower crew in between him and the empress went into action. The gunner swiveled the weapon as far right as possible. There was a short yell, and a moment later the pumping handle was pushed inwards by two subordinates.

The contents of the firethrower were pushed out in a hurry, conveniently right through the yawning dragon mouth of the weapon where a lit flame awaited. The result was a jet of flame extending out almost a hundred meters. Iron Claws, despite his immense size, recoiled at the sheer volume of flame. All down the line the reaction was repeated, as the front ranks of Smokowcy frantically tried to stop before reaching the wall of flames before them.

Another Smok behind Iron Claws knocked him aside by accident and rushed towards the nearest cannon. Its crew was frantically reloading when a firethrower took aim and a jet of flame engulfed the creature's chest. The liquid naphtha kept burning despite the firethrower having temporarily jammed, surprising the screeching Smok. It tried to keep going for a moment, but then a second, then a third and a fourth jet reached it. There was now Naphtha burning all over upon its head, the result being the desperate creature attempting to put it out with its hands.

When this didn't work, it ran off, back towards its own lines, unable to tell its way and letting out a wail of agony. This was being repeated all down the line, with the boldest Dragonkin the first to get enveloped in liquid burning naphtha. Even worse for them, it was nearly impossible to put out, as James knew it could even burn atop water.

"James, let me stand," Katarzyna said, hoisted as she was over his shoulder.

He reluctantly let her stand, and the empress turned to regard the wavering Iron Claws, who had just jumped back out of the way of yet another jet of burning Naphtha.

"James, signal the Silver Guard on my mark to light their Naphtha grenades and throw them at Iron Claws," Katarzyna commanded, walking a little forward to a spot directly beside the imperial banner waving gaily in the breeze.

James made a motion just as Katja was running up, and abruptly every Silver Guard was getting their grenades out, readying for an epic throw.

The Cesarzowa taunted Iron Claws in a booming voice, "Eisen Klauen, kommt schon, wie lang soll ich hier fuer Sie warten? Oder bist du ein Feigling?"

Iron Claws was clearly annoyed at the empress' questioning of his courage, although the firethrower before him was still giving him second thoughts.

Katarzyna redoubled her taunting, "Deine Tochter hat zu mir gesagt dass du ein schreckliche Person bist!"

Iron Claws exploded in a terrifying roar, his rage at the insult driving him forward. The two nearest firethrowers' crews were caught off-guard, their weapons pointing away from Iron Claws and towards his cohorts. In frantic reaction they swiveled their aim inwards towards Iron Claws. Iron Claws was gunning straight for the opening where he had smashed the cannon earlier. Two jets of flame belatedly scorched him on the sides, but Iron Claws' merely shrugged off the burning liquid and kept going.

"Throw them now," Katarzyna shouted as Marshal Singh scrambled to safety.

A hundred Hellenic grenades full of Naphtha were thrown, all of them impacting upon the rippling muscles of the enormous Smok. They burst in spectacular flashes of flame, the result not stopping Iron Claws though. He was wreathed in burning liquid, the only portion of his body not on fire being his head. It was like a scene out of hell to James, for Iron Claws merely bellowed and kept coming, dense smoke rising and obscuring the flames upon him.

There came a sudden boom, and Iron Claws shuddered, leaning hard to the left. James looked for the source of the shot; it turned out to be cannon angled just enough to hit the charging Smok on the side. Directing the cannon crew was Lewis, one of the Silver Guard.

James' attention was dragged back towards Iron Claws, who was trying to right himself, but the empress was ready with a lit Hellenic grenade of her own. In a superb shot, she hit Iron Claws square on the nose, the explosion of fire thereafter blinding him. He plodded a few paces forward and then collapsed to the ground. The tremor that shook James' feet was tremendous. A moment later a deafening series of booms rang out.

In all the chaos of battle he had simply forgotten that the cannon had been readying yet another volley, and with the Dragonkin in disarray within a couple hundred meters of each cannon, the opportunity was well taken. With each cannon firing the dreaded double canister shot, the effect was devastating as Smok after Smok was grievously injured. The others behind them began to edge backwards, something he had never before seen.

Katarzyna gestured Marshal Singh over as Iron Claws lay burning just short of their lines.

"Signal the cavalry pincer attack and have all slayer battalions counterattack now," the Cesarzowa ordered in a wearied voice.

The signals went out, and the Smokowcy, who had in the interim been rallying for yet another charge attempt, suddenly found themselves facing a massive counterattack of thirteen hundred slayers. They flung into action, flinging Hellenic grenades to sow confusion, and coordinating multiple attacks to deal damage. The three Smokowcy that had attempted to follow Iron Claws had at last gathered the courage for the charge.

They nearly stopped in their tracks when the hundred Silver Guards protecting the empress counter-charged. James jumped into the action by rushing forward, dodging underneath the slashing attacks of one Smok, and then severing the tendon on the back of its right leg. The Smok growled in pain, lashing out in all directions and even attempted to crush him by simply sitting down. James jumped for it and just made it to safety, for a moment later a tremor shook the ground behind him.

Within moments twenty of his comrades were overwhelming the Smok, and its fellow Smokowcy were almost immediately in similar trouble. Their only batch of luck was when one killed a Silver Guard with a vicious swing of its tail, the impact killing the warrior outright. Then, a moment later, Katja raced atop the Smok's head and stabbed into its skull. It toppled in predictable fashion, and moments later so too did the last valiant Smok.

James looked and saw the counter-charge of slayers had worked. Between thinning the Smokowcy ranks and the counterattack, it was enough to put them on the defensive. The Naphtha fires were just beginning to end when James noticed Iron Claws was still breathing. His body was smoldering, much of the flesh charred and burnt beyond recognition. But thanks to the specie's incredible durability, the Vice Chieftain of the draconic tribe was still alive.

Katarzyna gingerly approached the badly burned Smok while members of the Silver Guard either jumped atop him, readying the lethal blow, or stood nearby waiting to help.

"A great general once said never attack an enemy in a prepared position, yet you not only did so but also attacked me when I held the high ground," the Cesarzowa stated, "all of your stubborn pride and your unthinking vendetta have led us to this moment, with you crippled at my feet. This is the end of our little feud, Iron Claws, here beneath the auburn skies. Duchess requested I ask for your surrender, so I shall give you—"

Iron Claws bellowed hoarsely, "Never!"

"Then I will have to inform her of your decision to die," Katarzyna stated, waving a hand at the Silver Guard upon him, "I know she will understand at least."

A moment later Katja plunged her claymore into the Smok's skull, and thus Iron Claws passed from the world, James saying a prayer of peace as the Smok's breathing stilled.

Marshal Singh rushed back to her as she stood meters away from the enormous corpse of her most determined foe.

Singh saluted, "Cesarzowa, both wings are successfully counterattacking, the enemy's center is falling back, and the Lancers are beginning their attacks. With any luck they'll be cutting off the center's forces if they can link up."

"Signal all infantry to attack. I want their center pinned down while our Lancers make the breakthrough," she ordered, "nothing less than the destruction of their entire army will be acceptable, understood?"

Singh objected, "Should we not show them a little courtesy?"

The Cesarzowa directed a lengthy stare his way.

"Very well," Singh acknowledged, gesturing at the signals officer.

Suddenly 150,000 men began moving forward, towards and then through the burnt corpses of hundreds of Smokowcy. Further out to the flanks of the Tillnitz Heights innumerable armored cavalrymen were charging into action, smashing their way through the enemy's disintegrating ranks. Even further out both flanks of the imperial army were pushing forward hard in earnest counterattacks. In the center the Smokowcy put up a spirited rearguard action but the men behind them were running for their lives. Evidently they had spotted the cavalry pincer attack that would cut them off from the rest of their army.

The Cesarzowa stood observing it all, her armor bathed in the auburn glow of a setting sun. James stood beside her, and Katja did likewise. Against all the odds she had done it; the world's largest army smashed in the course of a single day. It had been a tactical tour de force, beginning to end. It had started with the withdrawal from the Tillnitz Heights, which lured the enemy forward. Then they went for the bait of the purposefully weakened right flank, which held up thanks to timely reinforcements. Then, with the enemy engaged on both flanks, they made the mistake of drawing down their forces in the center.

The Cesarzowa sighed, her voice becoming ever more like a whisper, "It was almost as if I were issuing them their orders. Things could not have gone better."

James was about to disagree when the Cesarzowa passed out, slumping to the ground. James ran over and tried to wake her up with a nudge, but she was out cold; her utter exhaustion had finally caught up to the adrenaline.

Marshal Singh was yelling now, "Hurry, get her doctors here immediately!"

* * *

The battle had been a smashing success, and the greatest army ever gathered had been forced to retreat. For Wenceslaus, it was an immense relief, but he still had so much else to do now. He was walking the corridors of the gold-gilded, rococo-style Praha Palace, which for now was the seat of absolute power in the Romanow Empire. All around were cheers and the muted clanging of bells, calls of ululation from prayer towers, and the quiet shoulder-patting of the empire's numerous bureaucrats.

He had just rounded a corner when a petite female slayer with short hair and long bangs noticed him while leaning against a grand doorway. It was Alevtina dressed simply in a black warrior's tunic, tights, and boots.

"You look a disaster," Alevtina opined, "your armor is completely covered in Smokowcy blood and scratches. What'd you do, take on Iron Claws all by yourself?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Wenceslaus confirmed as he walked up, "but my adversary did not outlast the battle."

Alevtina whistled in awe, "You finally got him?"

Wenceslaus shrugged as he came to the door, "He made the mistake of taking on the Cesarzowa's personal bodyguards."

"I've been hearing all sorts of crazy things about the battle, so why don't you let me in on just how thoroughly the empress pulverized them," Alevtina said with a smile.

"Marshal Singh told me their latest estimates are the Grand Alliance lost 400,000 men dead or wounded, and just this morning some 300,000 more surrendered to our forces. We lost an estimated 75,000 men wounded or dead, and 550 slayers," he confided in Alevtina. "It's more of a success than I could have ever hoped for, particularly given the Cesarzowa's condition."

"That's half of what anybody talks about around here right now," Alevtina remarked.

"And the other half?"

"The drubbing she just gave the Grand Alliance," Alevtina added, smiling. "You wouldn't know anything about her condition, would you?"

"Only what rumors reach my ears," Wenceslaus replied, "and none of those are trustworthy enough to bear repeating."

"You're not going to let Sergei be the sole warrior bidding for her hand now, are you?"

"No, but that's not a decision we should discuss out here," he noted.

They entered the antechamber to Dietrich's quarters and he closed the door.

Alevtina looked at him, "So why the long face?"

"This morning I received injunctions against my governance reforms at Seville. She's shut down the elected legislature, kicked the elected mayor out of office, rescinded all their reforms and laws, and put a military officer in charge of city hall. If it wasn't for her ending of slavery and serfdom a few months back, I would not even consider marrying her. The whole marriage issue I find frankly distasteful."

"You know, you could just ask the Cesarzowa why she did it," Alevtina suggested.

"I know why she did it: she fears giving up power," Wenceslaus opined, "and she's not going to let anything as liberal as a mandate from the masses stop her."

"That may be, or perhaps you just don't understand her reasoning," Alevtina countered.

Wenceslaus let the debate go; Alevtina was an ardent believer in the empress after all, and it wouldn't do any good debating on the matter.

"Has Dietrich made any progress since I last saw her?"

Alevtina looked wide-eyed, "She's loads better, but…"

"Yes?"

"She is finally beginning to go by the name Dietrich again but she seems very sad," Alevtina explained. "It's as if she lost faith or something in her personality just snapped."

They entered the room to find Dietrich on her immense four-poster, white-canopy bed, staring at a picture of two slayers languidly sprawled out to either side on two sofas. She was wearing a white nightgown and her body still had a withered look from all the weeks of no exercise. Dietrich's face at least was still presentable as she turned towards them.

"Hello Wenceslaus," Dietrich said in an uncharacteristically cold voice. "If you're here to interrogate me about my soul-link experience, don't bother."

Alevtina held up a sheet of paper in front of him.

He snatched it and asked, "What's this?"

"Apparently she's under a gag order not to talk about any of the memories she experienced during the soul-link," Alevtina explained.

"I want to know something," Dietrich stated, "about the empress."

Wenceslaus mouthed the words in confusion, "About the empress?"

"I heard you complaining about her in the antechamber," Dietrich explained, "but why are you complaining about the empress so much if you knew her once?"

This really confused him, "Dietrich, I never 'knew' the empress."

"But you had to have met her once," Dietrich said, a pleading tone barely audible.

"No, I never met her," Wenceslaus clarified, "and I don't know where you get that idea."

"You're telling me you never once knew the empress even though she was the very first slayer?"

Wenceslaus almost thought Dietrich was joking until her expression convinced otherwise, "Dietrich, Katarzyna Romanowa isn't even close to being the first slayer."

"But she wasn't called Katarzyna Romanowa back then, her name was Katarzyna Yushchenka," Dietrich snapped. "How could you—"

"I have no idea where you got that idea, but that's not true," Wenceslaus replied.

Dietrich stood up and said more loudly, "Why not?"

Wenceslaus gave the obvious answer, "Katarzyna Yushchenka was killed over three years ago on the orders of Queen Anna."


	16. Chapter 15: Zaehringen's Downfall

**Chapter 15: Zaehringen's Downfall**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**Many people even to this day poignantly ask just how in the world the legendary "Phantom" Miria was arrested. Part of the answer lies with Miria's nature as an idealistic individual; Miria after all felt confident she would be proven innocent. Her husband knew better, but was not allowed to talk to his wife. Lord Mayor Zaehringen was not interested in whether Miria was truly guilty, but was interested in permanently sidelining a woman he felt had become a burgeoning political force and thus a potential threat to his leadership.**

**The biggest question many today have is why the comrades of Miria did not fight. In many cases it was quite simple: they had no wish to fight or kill men who had once answered faithfully to their orders. Others were so taken by surprise that they resisted only enough to flee what they saw as an unjust arrest. The truly scathing questions are about the inaction of Miria's formerly close friends, then Bishop Galatea and Claire and Raki de Lautrec.**

**Why didn't the three break Miria out of prison and set things to rights? The answer was that it wasn't entirely clear to any of them that she was truly innocent. Miria unfortunately had her past history to blame, as everyone in Rabona knew the last time someone disagreed with Miria she condoned their overthrow in a coup. Miria had also previously bluffed her way into command of Rabona's military by threatening to take her warriors and leave if they didn't receive officer positions in an enlarged military. For Miria it was merely a bluff to gain leverage, but for Galatea it was a blatant and unethical bit of blackmail.**

**Claire, who didn't know the circumstances that made Miria push the Holy City into granting her command, saw it as a blatant power grab by the 'captain'. When the Council's coup went through, even though it was done for the greater good of Rabona in Miria's eyes, Claire's diary reveals she can't help but feel Miria enjoyed gathering power for herself. Claire wrote in her diary a few days after arriving in Rabona, "Miria acts more like a human than a warrior. Not just her but many of the others, even Helen, have fallen prey to this love of property and status."**

**When Miria's diamond mine made her into the wealthiest person on the island, Miria's tensions with both Claire and Galatea rose. Galatea's suspicions of Miria's motives and ideals rose when Miria didn't immediately become an immense philanthropist. Claire, well-known for her loathing of nobility and ennoblement, distrusted Miria for her demand that her marriage to Cid would automatically make her a Countess and her entire family nobility.**

**This distrust of Miria caused both to accept if not celebrate Miria's arrest. After all, since they both suspected Miria's motives, it was not so hard to believe she could be capable of leading a plot to overthrow Zaehringen. But on the other hand the fact that every claymore in the army was supposedly involved made them both suspicious of Zaehringen. Torn by doubt, they were drugged by a Grand Alliance agent before being serendipitously saved by the Romanow Empire's agents…**

* * *

"I'm sorry Helen, I didn't know," Renée murmured.

Helen was standing with her back to Renée in a graveyard full of headstones. Helen however was standing forlornly, hands clutched behind her back, before the lone granite crypt in the graveyard. Marked over the entrance to the crypt was the name, "Deneve".

"We were planning on seeing the world together after we won," Helen said in a whisper. "We were days away from peace..."

"I know," Renée nodded, "and I'm sorry for interrupting your solace, it's just that—"

"It's not happening again Renée ," Helen turned her shoulder to glance back, "I am not losing a sister just because we weren't exactly making Anastasia happy. Tell those arguing idiots if they don't move to save Miria, I'll do it. Go back and tell them I'll go to Rabona and save her if they won't, and I don't give a damn if they try to stop me."

Renée 's breath was taken away, "On… on your own?"

Helen smirked, "I seriously doubt I'll be on my own. I'll have at least all of us Monarchist League fools with me, won't I? I'll be coming back to the tavern in a few minutes. You're going to round up everyone who wants to save Miria and we are going to stop whatever the hell is going on."

"But if you do that—"

"You're too polite Renée ; when you want to really do something you never ask permission," Helen said with less melancholy, "Anastasia is not going to stop us from putting Miria where she belongs to be."

"But the other warriors will never—"

"Just shut up and do it Renée ," Helen snapped.

Renée , although she hadn't been Helen's subordinate for over a year, somehow found herself obeying despite everything in her body screaming against the reasoning of Helen's 'plan'. Renée walked back into the cobblestone streets of Malaga, its red roofs glowing in the surreal light of a setting sun. There seemed to be an unusually large number of younger men on the streets, a number of who practically jumped when they spotted Renée .

Renée paid them little heed and walked into a three-story tall tavern to find several dozen comrades. Many were obviously drinking away their problems at circular tables, their swords sheathed upon their backs. A few, including Tabitha, Natalie, Anastasia and Camilla were loudly arguing while standing at the bar.

"If we don't help mother, you know what will happen," Natalie pleaded.

"So you can do what, install her as dictator? No, we're not going anywhere or going to intervene in Rabona," Camilla countered.

"You can do that," Renée interjected, "but we'll be leaving. Come on Tabitha, Natalie, Matilda, Valencia, let's go."

Renée turned to leave to find Anastasia had walked around her and put herself squarely in the way to the door.

"I'm afraid that's out of the question, so back down now Renée , before someone gets hurt," Anastasia said firmly, a coterie of supporters now standing behind her.

Just at this moment a group of drunken soldiers in rather familiar armor walked into the bar. Renée noticed them come into view over Anastasia's left shoulder. Recognition came almost immediately.

Renée shouted, "You, what are you doing here?"

The mustached man at the head of the drunken soldiers knocked over his comrades and bolted for the door. Helen was just walking in at this moment, accidentally clothes-lining the soldier with an outstretched arm.

"Whoops, sorry dude," Helen apologized, hoisting him up by his armored collar, "are you alright?"

The middle-aged, brown mustached man laughed nervously as she hoisted him to his feet, "Colonel Helen, fancy seeing you here."

"Wait a moment, you're Major Perrier," Helen said, all eyes now fixed upon her and the soldier, "What are you doing here? Last I heard you were—"

"He and his battalion were assigned to guard the Organization's archives at Staff," Anastasia interrupted, a deadly calm in her voice.

"I thought you were dead," Renée murmured.

Helen shook him, "Those archives contained every kind of grisly Organization research secret imaginable, so why did you abandon your post? Are you out of your mind leaving those sorts of things unguarded? Did someone buy you off? Answer me Perrier!"

A large clutch of gold coins dropped from a sack on his belt, scattering all over the tavern's floor. One rolled to Renée 's right foot and stopped. She picked it up and examined it. It featured the portrait of a woman in a grand diagonal hat and was marked with 10. On the coin's upper rim were the words, "Jej Najwyższego Cesarska Mość," with the bottom rim featuring one word that caused Renée 's stomach to drop: "Katarzyna".

"He's carrying Imperial Krones," Anastasia remarked, looking at one coin as many of the other claymores stared blankly, "you know, the Romanow Empire's currency!"

A shocked hush fell upon the tavern's patrons as several of the Major's comrades blanched and looked rather anxious.

Helen shook the former Major violently, "You let the Romanow Empire bribe you into giving them access to the Organization headquarters? How stupid can you be, Perrier?"

"Well that explains why we were all on the list," Anastasia remarked.

Helen dropped Perrier to the floor, "That settles it then, we're going back, and you're bringing your battalion back with us, Major."

Perrier objected as he laid on the ground, "Wha, no way, my boys—"

"You won't like the consequences if you refuse," Tabitha warned.

* * *

"Let's move boys, time is short and we can't afford to let down the Lord Mayor," Galk shouted to his men as they jogged down Rabona's central bridge into the western half of the city.

He was leading a full regiment's worth of troops, with a full complement of heavily armored pikemen and swordsmen, the force being rounded out by a company of newly-trained crossbowmen. Galk was at the head of the formation decked out in full armor as well, waving his free hand at bewildered civilians to move to the sides of the great stone bridge.

They did so, looking both puzzled and a bit alarmed. Galk noticed a few hulking merchant ships' silhouettes far away to the south but turned back towards his mission. He and the soldiers reached the bridges far edge and jogged into the boomtown that was the new western half of Rabona. Everywhere he looked new blockhouses, stores, banks and street-side restaurants were under construction.

Galk directed his men to turn right and then was confronted with the sight of a burgeoning, but not-yet-completed massive, fortified stone gatehouse. It was part of the five-story tall outer walls of what was to be Rabona's inner citadel and future home of its government. At the moment however the only residents were the royal family and the two hundred man Royal Guard.

There was no gate as yet, nor anyone guarding the gatehouse tower or citadel entrance. Galk had just passed underneath the gatehouse when he was nearly blinded by the sun. It took a moment for his eyes adjust, and soon he found himself looking north towards the incomplete royal palace. Serendipitously, out front was parked the royal stage coach with six white horses at the ready. Galk noticed the queen and king just walking out of their coach.

"This has got to be the most convenient arrest opportunity I've ever seen," a lieutenant commented next to Galk.

"Quiet," Galk bit back as they approached.

There was something odd about the whole scene to Galk, but he tried his best to press his almost subconscious worry from his mind.

He stepped forward as the Royal Guard looked on in what seemed almost mild surprise at his coming. Evidently the traitorous royals had informed their bodyguard of what they expected was coming. Zaehringen after all had waited a couple of days for confirmation of Ambassador Tuluzy's claims that the Grand Alliance had a secret naval base in Lautrec. Thus here Galk was literally minutes after the confirmation had come to arrest the treacherous couple.

Pregnant Queen Violetta, wearing an elegant black dress, looked up and addressed him, "Major General Galacon, this is a surprise."

"Your Majesties, by order of the Council of Lords and Lord Mayor Zaehringen, you are under the arrest for the crime of treason," Galk declared.

"I seem to recall you told General Malaga the very same thing recently," Queen Violetta countered, at which Galk flinched. "Well General, if we're going to be arrested on the charge of treason; I assume you have some proof with you."

"The Lord Mayor just received confirmation that there is a Grand Alliance naval base on what was once your territory," Galk shot back.

Galk noticed the Royal Guard had their weapons ready, clearly not willing to just hand over the royals to him without a struggle. He wasn't interested in a violent conflict, and the royals had to know his men badly outnumbered theirs.

Violetta smirked, "Has he now? You trust your Lord Mayor to tell you the truth, do you, General? Do any of your men even know the 'proof' Zaehringen used to justify his arrest of Phantom Miria?"

"That is besides the point," Galk bit back, "you will come with my men to your arraignment or—"

The red-clad Royal Guard drew their swords, as did Galk's men in response.

"I think not," King Philippe declared, "for I have no desire to be put on a show trial by your 'beloved' Lord Mayor. The man is so irredeemably evil he had you arrest your superior on an anonymously donated piece of 'evidence'."

Galk countered, "How do you know that? Have you some proof?"

"Dear, read the minutes from the Conseil des Lords meeting immediately after the arrest to refresh the general's memory," Philippe told his queen, whereupon Violetta began to read:

Count Malaga; "I would like to see the evidence of my wife's treason."

Lord Mayor Zaehringen; "The law does not say anything about the defendant's husband having the right to see the evidence against her in the case of treason. I would advise you to halt your objections about your treasonous wife."

Galk's breathing slowed as he remembered the exchange between Zaehringen and Cid. As he re-remembered the scene, he recalled it had not been a pretty picture. He had always obeyed authority, but Zaehringen was not someone he enjoyed obeying. He had only obeyed the authorization to arrest Miria on Zaehringen's promise to give her a fair trial. As much as he disliked Zaehringen however, he knew the proof against the royals was incontrovertible.

Violetta kept reading the meetings' minutes:

Count Malaga; "My wife is being imprisoned on evidence that you yourself admitted was anonymously donated, and you have no proof it wasn't forged!'

Lord Mayor Zaehringen; "Count Malaga, all suspects are guilty until proven innocent in the court of law.' This isn't about whether she's guilty or not, is it? This is all about your damn jealousy and fear of my wife!"

Lord Mayor Zaehringen; "Major General Galacon, escort Count Malaga home and put him under house arrest."

The well-dressed King Philippe smirked, "So General, this is the man you trust? He's arresting all of his opposition on flimsy proof and you just stand by and help him do it? Are you going to let him declare himself King while he's at it?"

"I have already told Zaehringen if he doesn't give her a fair trial the military will overthrow him," Galk responded icily. "As for your proof of treason, my own troops found the Grand Alliance's Ambassador upon an Alliance ship, dead, accompanied into the next world by Dae Prado in the port of Gonal two days ago! Don't bother coming to me and speaking of innocence. You and the Grand Alliance are plotting to take over this country."

"So you're in league with Zaehringen then," King Philippe sighed, "I had hoped you might see the light, but we took precautions. Sebelius, bring them out!"

Abruptly hundreds of crossbowmen emerged from hiding places on the roofs of nearby buildings and the unfinished citadel walls. Emerging from underneath another gatehouse into the citadel were hundreds of swordsmen in heavy armor. Galk noticed a well-armored figure walk out of the royal stage coach, Lieutenant General Sebelius, recently appointed to Miria's second-in-command. Sebelius was well-groomed, with a clean-shaven face, a few gray hairs in his short-cropped brown hair, and the signs of middle age upon his features. Galk's men frantically formed into a defensive square behind him with the crossbowmen in the center, ready to shoot.

"You traitor Sebelius," Galk spat, "what'd they pay you to do this?"

"I am not being paid anything," Sebelius said as he stepped next to the royals, "I merely have come to see the truth about Zaehringen. You're like a blind cow being led to its very own slaughter. You expect your little threat would stop Zaehringen from disposing of Miria in some other way? Do you know how Zaehringen was elected Lord Mayor?"

"I don't pay much attention to politics, but I know treason when I see it in action," Galk declared, pointing to Sebelius' crossbowmen ringing his troops.

Sebelius smirked, "Well you should pay attention General, because before Zaehringen came to power the prior Lord Mayor was mysteriously killed in a dark alleyway, and Baron von Staufen was the heir-apparent. But you know what happened? Zaehringen used his money and his loyalists to bribe and intimidate the Council into making him Lord Mayor. There's no use denying it; we all know the story."

Galk could hear uncomfortable whispering amongst his troops as Sebelius' troops set into formation less than a hundred yards away.

One of Galk's own lieutenants asked, "That's not true, is it Major General?"

"Of course not, it's—"

Sebelius smiled, "Why don't you say it with conviction, Galk? Afraid the men will turn on your master if they knew the real him? The man bribes and intimidates his way into leadership and you're willing to let this elderly hoodlum order you around?"

Galk didn't bother giving Sebelius a reply as he looked around for an escape.

Queen Violetta stepped forward, "He bought and paid for his election as Lord Mayor, yet General Galacon insists he is worthy of respect. Zaehringen had his long-time rival Baron von Staufen's life ended and blamed it on outsiders, yet General Galacon insists he is worthy of respect. He has arrested Phantom Miria, the last bastion of opposition to him, yet General Galacon insists he is worthy of respect. I leave it up to all of you whether the man whose orders you are following is still worthy of respect… or an aspiring dictator!"

"As opposed to the two royals who'd like that position for themselves," Galk growled.

Sebelius put his hands into the air, "Men of the Royal Army of Toulouse, I offer you a choice. You can stay with Major General Galacon and be slaughtered, or you can join me and put an end to Zaehringen's tyranny. As proof of our goodwill, my first act as your officer will be to go to General Malaga's prison and free her myself! What say you?"

This was not at all what Galk expected Sebelius to say, and judging from the mixed mutterings behind him, not what the men had expected either.

Sebelius walked in front of Galk and addressed the men, "If the King and Queen want to be tyrants, why would they order me to save the General?"

Galk's chance to respond was stolen when an enemy crossbowman fell off the citadel's burgeoning walls and hit the stone square below, dead, an arrow lodged in his back. Galk saw the attention of Sebelius and the others turning from his men for a crucial second and acted.

Galk shouted at his men, "Go, go, go, back to the central bridge!"

It was immense relief that he saw them jolted and follow his every word, rushing as one away and out of the citadel with scarcely a shot being fired. Galk promised himself to profusely thank whoever had so distracted the enemy.

* * *

Violetta was shocked at the success of the distraction of an outside enemy having shot one of the crossbowmen. Galk's entire regiment was practically out of the gatehouse before anyone even managed an errant shot. The plan had been to divide Galk's soldiers loyalties and then dispose of those unwilling to join in with Sebelius. Clearly things were going to have to go at a faster pace now.

Sebelius' men ran up for orders, and the energetic general satisfied.

Sebelius declared to the gathered men near Philippe and Violetta, "Soldiers, we may have once been Phantom Miria's enemy, but I swear to you that a woman of such decency, integrity and respect should not be allowed to perish from this earth. Come with me and together with Miria we'll stop the tyranny of Zaehringen once and for all!"

The men, most of who were from Lautrec and not Toulouse, responded with a great cheer nonetheless. Sebelius mounted a nearby horse and led the column of armored troops forward, east, towards the old city citadel that was once Miria's headquarters and now her prison. They marched off making an impressive amount of noise, and the last had just exited from view when Violetta made a snapping motion.

A young, lithe claymore appeared, landing before her moments later. The young claymore looked no older than a girl of thirteen, and had recently been hybridized by the late Dae Prado. The young claymore wore a red and gold-striped outfit befitting her loyalty to the royal house. She had her long hair pulled tight and straight in front and then let loose in curly ponytail in back. Her face's symmetrical features were marred only by a single scar upon her right lip. She had two pieces of weaponry, an over-sized claymore blade painstakingly robbed from claymore graves near Pieta, and a beautiful all-metal longbow in her left hand, its quiver upon the girl's back.

Violetta asked of the girl coldly, "Marcella, what happened to your guarantee that no one would interfere?"

"I'm sorry Your Majesties," Marcella said in a stoic voice, "but I believe it was a Romanow agent. We forced him to flee a short time later. Would you like us to look for him?"

Philippe pursed his lips, "Perhaps later, for right now, divide your squad in two. You will stay here with four of your peers and protect us from Romanow meddling, and the rest of your squad will accompany the troops Sebelius sent to occupy the southern walls. The traitorous claymores must not be allowed into the city, so I trust your comrades and our men will stop any of the traitorous claymores from entering the city."

"You can count on us, Your Majesty," Marcella promised, and then jumped into action.

Violetta smiled; having claymores under one's personal command made things immensely more secure, particularly when the island's other warriors had conveniently fled from Rabona. It left the entire island ripe for the taking.

* * *

"Hold the line," Galk shouted at his men.

Sebelius' swordsmen, backed by several hundred crossbowmen, had marched to Rabona's central bridge over the Toulouse River. Galk had arranged his men into a defensive formation on the bridge, which due to its relative narrowness, would be relatively easy to hold. Hundreds of swordsmen were charging now, yelling, shields out and swords raised to strike.

Galk's pikemen held them back in grisly fashion as the front ranks of swordsmen desperately tried to hack their way through the rows of pikes.

One of Galk's youngest lieutenants shouted, "General, look out!"

The lieutenant knocked him to the ground, and suddenly countless arrow bolts began slamming into the back ranks of swordsmen. One man, his visor up, took a bolt straight through the eye and collapsed nearby. Others were saved by their armor, and some were wounded.

"Lieutenant, let me up," Galk ordered, but the lieutenant didn't move.

Galk squirmed to get his arms in a position to push, and with a tremendous heave pushed the man off. He almost wished he hadn't, for there was a bolt embedded into the young man's neck, and his eyes were already unblinking. The soldier had sacrificed himself to save Galk.

"I'll make it up to your family, I swear," Galk muttered as he turned around and stood to see the situation once more.

The pikemen were now fully engaged, some being forced to use short swords as some of the swordsmen had gotten close enough to engage the front line. Nevertheless it looked like the attack had been blunted.

"Crossbowmen return fire on their archers," Galk shouted at the hundred men now situated atop the roofs of nearby homes.

Their modest volley shot across the Toulouse River, but Galk didn't have time to observe its consequences. He saw Sebelius' troops were already rushing straight across northern bridge towards the old citadel. He could already hear the screams of terrified civilians as the troops ran across the bridge. Behind Galk countless women, children, and old men were grabbing all their belongings and fleeing east. Rabona had turned into a warzone quite unexpectedly.

A captain asked, "Sir, what do we do?"

"Send for reinforcements from Rabona's eastern barracks," Galk snapped, "and tell them any Lautrec-origin troops or officers are to be put under preventive arrest immediately."

The mustached captain blinked, "Sir?"

"We've been betrayed by Sebelius. He's relying on the 8,000 troops he brought into Rabona from Lautrec for the coup. Now's not the time to care about their blasted rights!"

The captain corrected his objection, "But what about General Miria? They're heading for where she is!"

"Then the citadel guards are going to have to hold out, and failing that, I don't doubt the General can handle anything thrown at her. Tell the men to secure all the intersections one block north and also have a regiment formed up on the southern bridge. We're going to stop these bastards right here."

* * *

Miria knew she was dreaming, for she was walking in her old Organization-era outfit in a darkened void. The ground felt solid enough, and shrouding it was a layer of fog. The void slowly began to fill itself in, just like it always did as she dreamed. A sun began to rise on the horizon, lighting the blue sky nicely.

It also revealed Miria to be standing upon a rocky island only long enough to get up to a run upon. A few shrubs decorated the island, along with a single tree with long fern-like branches and a bizarre, knobby brown trunk that leaned away from the wind. The wind for its part caused a little froth on the distant waves, but barely ruffled her hair.

"Hell, even in my dreams I'm abandoned now," Miria sighed as sat down against the tree.

A chillingly familiar voice interrupted, "It bothers you, does it, that your so-called friends have abandoned you, doesn't it?"

Miria jumped up and turned around and found a person sitting against the other side of the tree. This 'individual' looked to be none other than her identical twin, but Miria knew better. It was the darker, subconscious side of her nature manifesting itself once more in her dreams, and like always, it was dressed exactly the way she was. The only difference the deeper, darker voice of her 'twin'.

Miria walked around the little island until she was directly before her 'twin'.

Miria huffed, "What do you want?"

Her seated twin coldly regarded her, "I'm only around when you feel bitter or conflicted about something, Miria."

Miria snapped, "Go away!"

She swung her sword at her 'twin', but the twin suddenly disappeared. Miria's twin reappeared moments later next to her, her evil self grasping her arm with a single hand.

"You call me evil and yet here you are, trying to battle me without even a provocation," her twin sneered. "Put the sword down Miria; you can't kill me even if you tried."

Miria reluctantly did so, but even as she put the sword down the opposing side of her disappeared. In the island's center Renée suddenly appeared atop a stage that had formed out of thin air. There was Helen as well, along with curly-haired Anastasia and petite Camilla in their army-officer armor. The stage suddenly had a floor like that of a cobblestone street.

Renée asked the others, "Shouldn't we go back and save Miria?"

"Miria demoted me underneath you just to prove her damn point," Helen hissed in disagreement. "I say we let her stew until she appreciates me."

Renée objected, "But—"

Anastasia smirked, "Miria doesn't need our help. She can take care of herself, and besides, it's your fault she's in prison at all, Renée . You're the one that wrote down that membership list for the group trying to make Miria all-important. If it wasn't for you none of us would be here!"

"Besides, Miria was getting so uppity and crusty," Camilla said, shaking her head in disapproval. "She could use a little prison time to bring her back to reality. You remember what she used to be like?"

Helen shook her head, "Yeah, she was likable, approachable, and down-to-earth. Now look at her!"

"Miria's gone wrong in the head," Anastasia agreed. "First it was that Miria always insisted on being 'the Captain', then she bluffed her way into power, then she gained nobility, now she's wealthy beyond measure and can't even understand someone who has to struggle to make ends meet. She's out of touch and doesn't even know how arrogant she comes off now!"

"That's not what I'm like," Miria angrily shouted, "and you know it!"

The four claymores vanished, replaced by a sneering, haughty version of Ophelia who snickered, "Hit a nerve, have I? The facts speak otherwise Miria; why else would they abandon you at the first sign of trouble? Why didn't they at least warn you of arrest? Where were they in our time of need?"

Miria stammered, "Well, they were…they were—"

Ophelia smiled in a wicked manner, "They were a bunch of jealous twits and fools. It's high time you realized the only person you can rely upon is yourself! You want to trust your so-called comrades, the ones that abandoned you at the first sign of trouble? I say to the hell with the useless lot of them! If they don't care enough to help you, you should return the favor!"

"You're right, I am on my own," Miria partially agreed, "but I'm not treating them badly. I'm better than that."

'Ophelia' shook her head, "But why should you be? What has being nice gotten you these last three years? Your comrades are jealous of your wealth and success. They're too blinded by their own pettiness to care about what really matters. They have no idea how close we are to the superpowers taking over; you do, and yet they let Zaehringen lock you up."

"But I've always been nice," Miria protested, "and I'm not mean."

'Ophelia' advanced on Miria, who back-stepped towards the water's edge, chuckling, "Your elder sister Victoire knew a different Miria."

Miria couldn't help but flinch.

Ophelia sighed, "You've been left so traumatized by her death you cannot even bring yourself to realize it wasn't you being snide that caused it. It was the Organization, so why blame yourself? Why stay locked up if it is Renée 's fault?"

"I'm not sure it is," Miria countered.

Ophelia laughed, "Miria, Miria, when will you stop being the nice girl and just say the truth? The truth, as your prison guards have already told you repeatedly, is that Renée wrote down a very dangerous list. A list of claymores that wanted you to take leadership of this divided island."

"She wouldn't have done anything so stupid as…"

Miria's objection died; she knew Renée well enough to know better.

"See, you're learning," Ophelia praised.

Renée appeared next to Ophelia staring blankly towards the horizon, blinking at random as Ophelia circled her.

Ophelia tapped Renée on the head with an armored hand, "She's an idealistic fool, but even a fool like Renée has her uses."

Miria snapped, "What is it you want?"

Ophelia chuckled, "What I want is what you truly want, my dear Miria. What I want is to control this island, to take command of it with a strong hand and forever insure its independence from the superpowers. It's time for you to take absolute power and show this island what a great ruler can truly accomplish. No compromises with plutocratic lords, no more caring about what the church wants, no more opposition slowing down what must be done."

Miria cried out, "No!"

"The alternative is where you are now, entrusting your safety to this man."

Renée disappeared, and in her place upon the stage was the gray-bearded Lord Mayor Zaehringen in his finest robes. A moment later Miria's husband Cid appeared along with Helen's ex, Ruud van Willems. They too were dressed in their finest robes, as if they were in a Council of Lords meeting.

Zaehringen seemed to be scoffing, "You want me to dismiss the charges just because the evidence isn't total, Count Malaga?"

Cid clenched his fist, "You know the evidence is flimsy; my wife is innocent! Give her a fair trial or dismiss the charge of treason."

Zaehringen sneered, "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Let your wife go free, and the instant she is, she'll have me thrown out of power. Your wife was and always will be guilty until proven innocent, and since I cannot trust her out of prison, that's exactly where she'll remain for the rest of my days."

Cid attempted to tackle Zaehringen, but Ruud van Willems stopped him.

Zaehringen shouted back, "I am the law on this island, Malaga, and if you want her to have a chance at trial at all, you'll sit down like a good boy and learn your place or you'll learn it like your wife is learning hers right now!"

Cid's contempt was obvious, "May you rot in hell, Zaehringen!"

Suddenly the men disappeared from Miria's sight, and the island was bare of all but the stage, the palm tree jutting through its center, and 'Ophelia'.

"You can't trust Zaehringen, you cannot hope for Cid to save you, your friends have abandoned you, and those royals are plotting something terrible. You know what I mean Miria; the way they looked at you. It's only a matter of time before it's too late for you to act."

Miria felt almost trance-like as she asked, "What must I do?"

Ophelia disappeared and then her voice whispered into Miria's ear, "Do what must be done. Break out of this prison, take command of your army, push Zaehringen from power and destroy the royals. Then when your opposition has been crushed, declare yourself queen."

"Claire and Galatea would never allow it," Miria objected.

Ophelia's voice snapped, "Quit being the good girl, Miria!"

Claire appeared in her rebel outfit alongside Galatea in her Bishop's robe atop the stage, each staring daggers at the other.

Ophelia's voice continued its sneering commentary, "Claire's a naïve fool who doesn't understand that the silver-eyed rightly deserve to rule, not be ruled by pathetic humans. Galatea's a religious zealot who views the world through tunnel vision. They've abandoned you like all the others; why should you care what they think? Their opinions are as worthy as their trustworthiness; not at all. Push them out of your way and this island will be forever secured from foreign oppression."

Miria felt her breathe growing cold, "How do I do that?"

Ophelia appeared behind Claire and held a knife under her throat, "If they will not see reason, remove them from this world."

"NOOO!"

Miria woke up to find herself in a small, drab stone prison cell. The only source of light was the barred window far above. Miria felt her brow; it was covered in a thin slick of sweat. Getting up, Miria turned around to find a large all-metal door guarding the way out of her cell. Only a few slits allowed her glimpse across the barren hall to the cell door opposite.

"Miria, are you ok?"

It was not the voice of Miria's other side but that of Virginia, a compatriot and someone Miria had always respected. Someone she could trust; the thought at once lifted a weight off of Miria as Virginia spoke.

"I'm fine Virginia," Miria reassured, "just had a nightmare."

"It must have been some nightmare, because your yoki was fluctuating all over the place during it," Virginia noted, her voice muffled from across the hall.

Miria could just glimpse Virginia's white hair and silver eyes through the bars of her door and Virginia's.

"While you were asleep, the guards brought us tea, and it tastes great," Virginia stated.

Miria noticed a wooden plate with a set of tea steaming upon it in wooden cups. Miria couldn't help feeling a tad surprised; the guards weren't usually this generous, although she knew from the over-size portions that she had sympathizers amongst her jailers.

Miria, having not drunk a drop of water in over a day, was more than a little tempted. She walked over from her straw mattress and was about to sip the tea when she was interrupted.

_You trust Virginia's judgment do you? You think you don't have enemies on this island? _

Miria's hand paused, hovering over the enticing, steaming green tea. She decided to wait, even though the tea would be cooler later. Miria heard Virginia yawn through the cell doors.

Virginia asked, "Miria, do you think Zaehringen will give us a fair trial?"

"I'm not sure," Miria admitted, "he seems to fear my wealth."

There was another yawn from Virginia.

"Virginia?"

"I feel so sleepy," Virginia yawned, "that tea was so good it's putting me to sleep."

"Come on Virginia, don't mess with me, staying awake isn't that hard," Miria lectured.

Virginia didn't reply, which annoyed Miria.

"Come on Virginia, talk to me," Miria snapped, knocking on the door of her cell.

A moment later Miria heard what sounded like Virginia collapsing to the floor of her cell, a great thud audible even through the cell doors.

Miria yelled, "Virginia, just hold on, I'm coming!"

* * *

Violetta was standing atop the royal palace's tallest tower, her well-dressed husband leaning over the edge looking east. Violetta followed his gaze across the wide Toulouse River to Rabona's older and much smaller citadel. It was where "Phantom" Miria was being held, and now that the coup was underway she had to be taken care of, or everything would fall apart.

Philippe worried aloud, "What if Miria somehow doesn't drink the sedative-laced tea? You said it yourself that Marcella's no match for her even unarmed. What happens if Miria breaks out?"

Violetta walked up next to him and comforted him with an arm around his shoulder. Philippe felt understandably nervous to her touch; his life was depending on Miria being dead.

"She won't," Violetta reassured.

Philippe worked himself into a rant, "How can you give me that reassurance? Do you know what kind of carnage she wreaked on our army after we nearly killed her daughter? She turned into a bloody three-story tall winged cat, tore men apart like they were rag dolls, and we could do nothing to stop her!"

"Yes, she nearly awakened fighting your men," Violetta replied. "But she's not about to awaken anytime soon. Her food has been laced with small amounts of yoki suppressants. She cannot leave her human form as a result."

"That's not good enough," Philippe snapped, "you know we didn't let Sebelius in on our little plot. He thinks he's genuinely going there to save her. We can't let him succeed."

"Oh don't worry," Violetta said with a smirk, "Sebelius doesn't know that, which makes him genuinely play the role of hero. Thus, when Miria is tragically martyred by her captors just before his men can reach her, the men will believe it was on Zaehringen's orders. Very soon they will destroy Zaehringen and his whole rotten Council in revenge, leaving us the 'unfortunate beneficiaries' of his passing."

"And sole rulers of Toulouse," Philippe surmised, "it's bloody brilliant!"

Miria grabbed hold of the bars on her cell door, and with a tremendous heave, tore the door off its hinges. The two guards on duty fled down the hall, slamming the door rather than take her on. This suited Miria just fine, for she needed to break Virginia out.

Miria looked through the bars of Virginia's cell, the window far above providing just enough for Miria to see by. Virginia, wearing a navy-blue leather outfit similar to the she was wearing, had toppled over backwards onto her straw bed. Miria knew at once there must have been something in the tea, for Virginia's tea cups were empty nearby.

"Hold on Virginia, just give me a moment," Miria said pointlessly, as it was clear Virginia was no longer conscious.

_You'll never make it out of here alive if you try to save her. It's not her life they're after, but yours. You can make it out of here through that window at the hall's far end on your own, but you cannot make it out with Virginia. _

The voice was taunting her now again; Ophelia's voice, the voice of Miria's other half.

_I'm not giving in to you, not now, not ever. _

_ Then we will both die you naïve fool. _

Miria tried to shake the fear the words struck in her as she grabbed the bars of Virginia's cell and pulled. With a tremendous tug, during which she began pushing up her yoki, Miria ripped the door off its hinges. It struck her as odd that her yoki seemed restricted, but Miria had to put this aside. She rushed to Virginia's side and felt for a pulse on the white-haired warrior.

"Oh thank God," Miria sighed, relieved there was a pulse.

"Come on Virginia, we're getting out of here," Miria said, hoisting the unconscious warrior over her left shoulder.

Miria couldn't make it out the tiny window high above the door at the hall's end with Virginia on her. Instead Miria rushed to the stone hall's lone steel door. It was locked solid, so Miria aimed a strong kick. Her right leg connected with the door with tremendous force. The door gave way with a loud crunch, falling over onto the floor beyond. Alerted by the racket, a trio of crossbowmen had already taken aim at her nearthe end of the hall, opening fire almost immediately.

Their small delay in firing was all the time Miria needed to duck under the three incoming bolts as she charged forward with Virginia over one shoulder. Miria knocked out one with her knee smashing into his chin. The other armored crossbowmen dropped their crossbows and ran. Miria rushed to the stairwell and was relieved to see it free of resistance. She hurried downstairs still carrying Virgina.

Upon reaching the ground floor Miria kicked open the door to reveal the inner courtyard, where surprisingly no one was in immediate view. A score of wagons filled the inner courtyard, and Miria began to descend down the steps towards them. A siren sounded overhead, whirring ever louder as Miria looked up.

Shouts rang out, "We're under attack! Close the gates!"

Not far away, out of her sight, Miria heard the voice of a man shout, "Come on boys, we're here to save the General! Let them feel your steel!"

Miria saw the courtyard ended with an open gate into another courtyard, where, suddenly dozens of soldiers, all dressed in Toulousan colors, were locked in combat.

"I see the General," a soldier shouted, pointing towards Miria.

"It'll be the last time you rotten lot do so," a man high above countered.

He was armed with a bow, a weapon Miria could avoid when used by a single man. Protected only by a cuirass and helmet, he also seemed bizarrely overconfident.

"Lord Mayor Zaehringen sends his regards," the man shouted.

He took out an arrow as Miria tensed, anticipating the need to dodge. Another man, appearing next to the first, held a small, lit torch. The archer dipped the tip of the arrow into the flames, and it quickly caught fire. He pointed it not directly at Miria, but at one of the many wagons parked in the stone courtyard.

Miria followed his aim and noticed in alarm that just under its cloth tarp there were dozens of large black metallic balls. They looked uncannily similar to the gunpowder bombs used by Father Mazarin to kill Nadia. It wasn't just the one wagon either; the whole courtyard was absolutely crammed with them.

"You goddamn clever bastards," Miria muttered, then bolted for the citadel.

Miria saw the archer raise his longbow to fire onto a nearby wagon and redoubled her speed while carrying Virginia. Time seemed to slow as Miria approached the stairs to the old citadel. She chanced a glance back when the first wagon exploded with a tremendous series of bangs. Miria had just reached the open doorway when the other wagons went off with even more force. The last thing she remembered was the citadel being blasted apart as multiple carts of explosives detonated together.

* * *

"Yes, yes yes," Violetta joyously shouted, the enormous dust cloud from the explosion at the old citadel clearly visible.

Moments later the entirety of the citadel's blasted façade collapsed into the courtyard, no doubt crushing anyone unlucky enough to be under it. Violetta's husband, who had been intently waiting for the moment, breathed a huge sigh of relief. The nightmare for him was finally over.

Violetta stretched her arms towards the heavens in victory, "We did it, we actually did it!"

"Your men had me worried for awhile there," Philippe admitted with a sheepish grin.

"This is it, this is the moment we've been waiting for Philippe! Can you believe it?"

"We still have to kill off the Council of Lords," Philippe pointed out.

"They'll be dead soon enough now," Violetta said, pumping her fist. "We actually did it Philippe, the witch is dead! The wicked witch is dead!"

"It was magnificently done," Philippe complimented, patting her on the shoulder.

Violetta crowed in exultation, "We did it, Philippe! We triumphed over the great Phantom Miria! All her strength, all her speed, her courage and might, all of it failed to stop us. We brought down the greatest silver-eyed warrior this island has ever known using nothing more than our wits and a few followers!"

"And to think our followers were urging you not to try this method," Philippe replied.

Violetta pumped her fists, "Miria is dead and Rabona is ours!"

* * *

Cid was frantically discussing with Ruud van Willems at the Lord Mayor's Residence. They were in the midst of reacting to the incredible scene of Zaehringen's now-top military officer siding with the royals when Galk, came rushing into the chamber room, covered in blood and dented armor. Lord Mayor Zaehringen nearly ran to hear the news.

Zaehringen gasped, "What news, General Galacon?"

"General Sebelius' troops have engaged ours on the southern and central bridges. They are attacking the old citadel as well, and the last message we have from the commander there is that he's not sure they can hold out."

Cid demanded, "We must send him reinforcements! That's my wife in there, we're not going to just abandon her are we?"

"Cid, your wife can take care of herself," Galk reasoned, "she'll get out safely, don't worry. They're not about to be able to stop her jumping across the roofs."

"We need her to take charge of the army now," Cid snapped.

Zaehringen blurted out in objection, "I am not exonerating that traitorous—"

He was cut off by a spectacular backhand from Galk, who looked as if he had lost either his sense or all patience with the man. Cid took a step back, being nearly as stunned as the bloodied Zaehringen, whose mouth was dripping with blood.

"The General is obviously innocent, you ass! It was the Angevins and the Grand Alliance all along, not Cid's wife. You will exonerate her immediately or the army will no longer recognize you as having the legitimacy to command it," Galk shouted at the shocked Zaehringen.

Zaehringen staggered to his feet, helped by several lesser-known Council members.

"Exonerate General Miria now or the army will do it for you," Galk snapped, manhandling Zaehringen by his well-tailored collar.

Cid gasped; it was almost a repeat of what had happened to the Rabona Orthodox Church's Holy Council. When the military had felt its leadership and advice then was not respected, many of its officers readily backed Miria's condoning of the coup against the church. Now Galk was threatening nothing less than the military once more overturning civilian leadership if it didn't get its way.

Cid objected, "Galk, I'm not sure threatening to overturn—"  
A younger officer ran into the room and saluted before Galk, "General Galacon, they're coming from the north straight for the Lord Mayor's Residence!"

Cid glanced out the immense windows of the Council chamber towards the twin-spire Teresian Cathedral. At the feet of its towers were hundreds of seemingly puny-looking men against the cathedral's massive bulk, each well armed and armored, heading straight for a defensive line of well-armored, blue-garbed Council Guardsmen. The fight was just starting when Galk came up alongside Cid, a frown upon his face.

"I'll give Sebelius credit for taking the initiative, but he's mistaken if he thinks I'll just give up. Well that's it then, everyone, evacuate the building," Galk snapped.

Ruud van Willems, who had been listening intently next to Zaehringen objected, "You want us to give in to those bastards? Why not hand them Rabona on a platter too?"

"It's for your safety," Galk tersely shot back as he turned around to address Ruud, "and I assure you they won't take over. Lord Mayor, as far as General Malaga is concerned, the army sees her as already exonerated. I hope you have no objections."

Cid knew a threat from Galk when he heard one, as did Zaehringen, judging by his face.

Zaehringen swallowed his pride enough to whisper, "Yes, I'll exonerate her."

Galk sniffed in approval, "Good, because I'd hate to think of what would happen if you hadn't. Take the passageways east to the eastern barracks. Brigadier General Soult is already summoning the 12,000 men stationed there for battle. So long gentlemen, I have a battle to run."

With that Galk raced off with his aides, and Cid was left realizing the Lord Mayor had just effectively lost all power over the army. His vendetta pursued to its bitterest end, Zaehringen's power was now broken in more ways than one. Cid also realized it would probably be best to follow Galk's advice and also not gloat to Zaehringen.

"They just torched a building," Ruud van Willems observed of Sebelius' troops.

The next moment was disrupted by an ear-splittingly wave of sound, the force of which was enough to shatter or crack many of the Council Chamber's immense windows. Cid fell backwards from shock, crashing painfully into Ruud. They got up frantically, but Cid could not see the source of the explosive sound.

Cid gasped, looking for the source of the sound, "What the hell just happened?"

Ruud grabbed him by the arm, "Worry about it later, we've got to go!"

A torch smashed through one of the chamber's remaining windows, powerfully making Ruud's point as Cid hurried to follow the fleeing Lord Mayor and the Council members.

* * *

Rubel was loving the chaos of the bloody street fighting going on, as it allowed him to use some unconventional tactics. He was mere blocks south of the fighting going on at the Lord Mayor's Residence, and the effects of the fighting was everywhere. Women, old men, children and foreigners were running for their lives away from the fighting, taking everything they owned or could carry with them.

Rubel, dressed conspicuously in a black hat and cape, walked into an open doorway rather than appear on the streets. Moments later, the source of his caution ran past, a full company of Sebelius' men no doubt attempting to hit the loyalists defending the Lord Mayor's Residence in the rear. It was just part of the coup's brilliance, as Sebelius had launched his initial attack from western Rabona. However, it was in the southern barracks where Sebelius had moved most of the Lautrec-origin troops who had reinforced Rabona's 'defenses' upon unification with their once-sworn enemy.

Rubel clutched his wounded arm, which was healing but not as quickly as a slayer's would have healed. It was a wound inflicted by the silver-eyed assassin from earlier, when he had attempted to kill the sedated trio of Claire, Raki and Galatea as well as all possible witnesses. He had been surprised to find a Comnenian-speaking tutor for the children there, which ironically made him alert enough to spot the crossbow bolt meant for his head. The result was the wound he was now frantically healing.

Rubel moved through the Grand Alliance safe-house, and on the top floor he found what he was looking for: his best weapons. There was a pair of grenades, a cutlass, a score of throwing knives, and even an ordinary crossbow. Rubel passed up all these items for something special he had imported straight from realm of Szechwan in the Grand Alliance. It was small, compact, and had a small wooden box atop the weapon for storing bolts. It was one of the legendary Szechwan repeating crossbows. A weapon perfect for what he was about to do.

Rubel grabbed some grenades, all the throwing knives, but left the cutlass. Knowing that rooftop-hopping now, without doubt, attract a silver-eyed assassin, Rubel was faced with two options. One was running around on the dangerous streets, but the other was literally jumping into buildings through their open windows. In this way Rubel could both avoid the rooftops and the dangerous, chaotic streets.

He reached the window's ledge, climbed atop the rail of the safe-house's third-floor balcony, and pushed off. Rubel sailed over a column of oblivious troops below, the rapid onset of dusk no doubt of help. He landed with a crash of glass in a nice apartment, but the residents appeared to have already fled, their belongings askew all over. Rubel picked his way through the dark with as much speed as he could.

He exited the building via another flying leap, and this time smashed his feet through an over-street passageway. This passageway was well-lit inside by silver chandeliers, its sides adorned with portraits and find wood, and the floor covered by a plush green carpet. Rubel smiled; he'd made it into Lord Mayor Zaehringen's recently completed above-street passageway. It was meant as a way for Zaehringen and his allies to safely come to and fro to the seat of government without exposing themselves to the dangers of the streets. Unfortunately for Zaehringen, he'd rather underestimated the ability of Grand Alliance agents.

A loud voice jolted Rubel from his thoughts, "Hey, you, what are you doing in the Lord Mayor's passageway?"

Two halberd-wielding Council Guardsmen came rushing towards Rubel, already alert to his illegal presence. Rubel whipped out two throwing knives from his belt, each spinning end over end, toppling the guards when they struck their armored upper chests. The plate armor didn't stop the special Duratium knives; the blades passed through with ease.

"Apologies men," Rubel said, inclining his circular hat to the dead men, "but I've got a Lord Mayor to assassinate, and I can't afford to miss him."

Rubel took out the repeating crossbow as he hurried down the hall. He knew time was short; if he could kill the entire Council of Lords as it fled the Lord Mayor's Residence, it would make Rabona that much easier to take for the Angevin royals. Rubel loaded a full clip of crossbow bolts and began running towards the Residence in the plush passageway.

* * *

"Come on Cid, worry about your wife later, we've got to get ourselves to safety first," Ruud van Willems shouted.

The entire Council of Lords, escorted by a mere two guards, had rushed to the above-street passageway to make good their escape. Only Cid couldn't help but hesitate; a part of him badly wanted to go to the citadel to see if she was okay. But that wasn't an option, as sounds of fire and fighting downstairs reminded him.

"Alright, I'm coming," Cid said, giving in.

He and Willems were now considerably behind the main group led by Zaehringen, and they hurried to catch up. Zaehringen's group was running as if their lives depended on it, which they did. Ruud took a right around the passageway's corner and suddenly Cid found he and Ruud were within earshot of the older Zaehringen and company.

Zaehringen was rushing forward a bridging section of the above-street passageway when a black shadow stepped into view. Everyone in Zaehringen's group stopped immediately, while Cid and Willems hustled to join the back of the group. Cid recognized the man instantly when he stepped beneath the glow of a silver chandelier.

Cid hissed, "What is this, Rubel?"

Both of the Council Guardsmen drew their blades but held their ground, clearly more concerned about protecting the Council than killing Rubel immediately.

"Your execution, Monsieur Malaga, just like the one we gave your wife," Rubel smirked.

"NO, I don't believe it," Cid snapped, a panic taking him, "you couldn't have taken down my wife. She's a claymore, not a person just anybody can kill!"

"Phantom Miria passed from this world earlier this evening when we blew up her citadel prison and everyone inside," Rubel informed them, the Council gasping as he did so.

"That's the thing about claymores, Monsieur Malaga," Rubel smirked as he adjusted his darkened glasses, "they think just because they're superhuman they're not vulnerable to human weapons. Unfortunately for you, gunpowder weapons work magnificently against them in the right situations."

Cid had enough of Rubel's gloating, "Guardsmen, kill the bastard!"

The guards rushed towards Rubel, who drew what appeared to be a miniature crossbow with a box atop it. A bolt flew from the weapon, hitting the closest Guardsmen in his chest armor. He staggered a little bit, and then tried to pull the bolt out. Rubel snapped the crossbow's box back in a fluid motion.

The second Guardsmen was mere yards away when the box snapped back to its original position and Rubel fatally shot the man in the forehead. The other Guardsman had just pulled most of the bolt free of his armor when Rubel reloaded. As the man struggled to close the distance Rubel simply snapped off another bolt, hitting him in the neck. The Guardsman went down gargling in pain, clutching at his neck.

"That's the thing about Szechwan repeating crossbows, they may be fast-firing, but they aren't as powerful as their normal cousins," Rubel said, referring to much larger crossbows.

Zaehringen was about to bolt for his life when a torch came smashing through the passageway's window far behind Cid, setting alight the nearby carpet.

"Too bad for the lot of you," Rubel sympathized.

"I have more guards than just those two," Zaehringen hissed.

Cid was surprised to find the back of the group included four more Council Guardsmen rushing forward, their armor previously hidden by long cloaks. This was too much for Rubel to take with the repeating crossbow Cid thought. Rubel, seeing the onslaught, surprisingly put away the repeating crossbow. Instead Rubel grabbed a metallic black ball, lit it, and tossed onto the passageway's floor. The Guardsmen scarcely had a chance to react before the four of them were instantaneously killed by the blast.

"A shame you made me make this messy," Rubel sighed, looking at the horrifically mutilated bodies and armor of the now-dead Guardsmen. "Au revoir, Lords et Lord Maire!"

Rubel lit a second grenade as the now-burning and blasted-out passageway began to creak, flinging it with superb skill into the middle of Zaehringen's group.

Zaehringen merely muttered as the grenade rolled before him, "Bien joué."

Ruud van Willems rushed back, shouting, "Cid, get down!"

Ruud's flying backwards tackle caught Cid, dragging him down to the passageway's floor. A moment later there was a tremendous blast, and Cid's hearing turned oddly muted and full or ringing and echoes. Yet, despite the blast, Cid still found he could move his body with ease, and it appeared he was little wounded. Ruud pulled him up, and Cid turned to see the carnage. Dead, mutilated and dying lords lay throughout the now blasted, partly-shredded passageway, the ceiling of which was beginning to burn. There was dark gray smoke all over, and the dying moans of mortally wounded men, their guts, blood and limbs strewn all over.

Zaehringen surprisingly was staggering onto his knees, his robes soaking with blood and his face covered in bleeding cuts, but he was still alive. Cid tried to rush to Zaehringen's side to instinctually help him when Ruud caught him by the arm.

"It's too dangerous Cid," Ruud yelled into Cid's ringing ears.

Zaehringen feebly held out a bleeding arm towards Cid when the whole structure began creaking and snapping underneath. The next moment the section collapsed, snapping off the main structure, taking Zaehringen and the others with it down onto the street many stories below. Cid could do nothing but hold helplessly watch as the dozen plus men who had ruled Rabona for the last year and a half met their grisly end. Cid held out a hand futilely, tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd wanted revenge on Zaehringen, but never like this.

Ruud grabbed Cid and pulled him away from the splintered, smoldering edges of the now bisected passageway, "They're gone Cid, come on, we can't stay here!"

The smoke was clearing, and striding into view on the other side, dimly lit by the smoldering embers of the passageway's edges, was the black-clad Rubel. Rubel took out the repeating crossbow once more as Cid & Ruud realized there was nowhere to hide.

"So sorry, but I can't afford witnesses," Rubel said, sounding insincere.

Rubel extended out his arm, taking aim at Cid's head, and time seemed to slow. Cid was counting time by the heartbeats booming in his ears as Rubel corrected his aim. Cid began scrambling to avoid the shot when he heard a deadly whistling sound of a crossbow bolt in flight. Cid closed his eyes… and then opened them to find he was still alive.

Rubel was patting his bald head, a shocked expression on his face. A crossbow bolt was pinning Rubel's black hat to the smoldering, broken end of the passageway. Rubel whipped around to look for his attacker. Cid and Ruud both leaned over the edge for the broken passageway in the same direction. There atop a small church's bell tower was a shadowy figure in black, the wind ruffling a cape.

Rubel smirked in the dim, flickering light, insulting his attacker with clapping hands and insulting words, "Votre visé aurait besoin d'un peu de travail, assassin."

Cid couldn't quite believe the nerve on the man, but then again it could have been macabre humor. After all, Rubel had just dodged instantaneous death by mere inches. But just as the mysterious attacker was about to fire his crossbow again Rubel smashed something into the passageway floor. In a tremendous flash, Rubel disappeared in a midst of smoke and light. The attacker disappeared a moment later into the night sky.

Ruud grabbed Cid, sound panicky, "Come on Cid, let's get out of here!"

* * *

"I can't feel her yoki," Tabitha despaired.

Renée felt her heart sinking; nearly all of the almost thirty strong remaining claymores had rushed north to Rabona to rescue Miria. Helen had them convinced it was going to be easy to bust her out of prison. The group had just crested a small rise, the immense bulk of Rabona's walls and the city beyond visible in the moon's light. Things from the first moment were looking very, very bad. Whole sections of the city appeared to be on fire, the smoke they produced blotting out part of the moon's silhouette.

The cries of men, women and children were audible even at the distance of over a mile from the southwestern walls. It was just as they made out the sounds of battle, distant and barely audible, that Tabitha had made her comment. Renée frantically sought to prove Tabitha wrong, but a search with her eyes closed for Miria's yoki turned up nothing. It did however turn up a more surprising yoki not very far away and somehow Renée had completely forgotten about: Yuma. There were also five other yokis, fairly weak, that weren't so far away either.

Renée gasped, "Yuma? How'd we miss Yuma slipping away and coming here?"

She rushed off across the grassy plains, followed by the others, hopped a low stone wall, and found Yuma atop a small farmhouse's roof, unmoving and standing tall.

Renée climbed up and looked towards where Yuma was staring, "Yuma, what is it? What's wrong? Come on, talk to me Yuma."

"They took her, Renée ," Yuma said, crying, "I was right here when it happened."

Anastasia butted in, "Took who Yuma? What's happened?"

Yuma seemed gasping for breath in shock, "They took her from us, they actually did it."

In exasperation Camilla snapped, "Took who from us?"

Yuma was crying, "She was trying to escape with Virginia, and I came here to look for her down the river, and then I saw it. Something happened at the old citadel; a blast like the one that killed Staufen. Her yoki…"

Natalie cried out, "No, no, no, Mom can't be dead, she can't!"

Yuma said the dreaded words in a whisper, "They killed… they killed General Miria."

An outburst of sobbing and disconsolate claymores followed, and emotions began to slowly hit Renée ; denial, anger, a sense of loss, a desire for revenge.

Helen put a hand to her forehead, crying out, "Oh God, what have we done?"

Renée however focused her rage at the five yokis atop the southern wall. The five yokis were of new claymore warriors no doubt loyal to the treacherous royals.

"The Romanow Empire is going to pay for this," Renée hissed, drawing her sword.

She bolted towards the wall; she didn't care how bloody tall it was, she was going to jump it and then wreak a horrific revenge on the warriors there.

Yuma called out, "Stop Renée ! They're not armed like how you think they are!"

* * *

Rubel wiped the sweat off his brow and circular sunglasses. He was running at a pace he had rarely attained in his life. Rubel gathered himself together and with a tremendous leap covered the distance between two balconies. He was yet again leaping between buildings, running through them to avoid attention. Unfortunately this was warranted, as no sooner had he landed upon the balcony than a crossbow bolt smashed into the stones above his head.

Rubel glanced back from three stories above the street to see his hooded pursuer, a silver-eyed assassin who was busily reloading their compact crossbow. Rubel, seeing his assailant distracted, decided to try turning the tables. He grabbed a pair of throwing knives upon his belt and with a tremendous effort, sent both flying in perfect formation towards the slayer.

The agent reacted with astonishing speed, ducking in time to avoid both knives. Rubel turned around and smashed his way into the building rather than risk the counterattack. He rushed over the dust kicked up by the fallen door and rushed in. Rubel heard the assassin land upon the balcony when he had reached the apartment building's spiraling staircase. He pushed himself to run down the stairs as fast as he could.

Emerging on the cobblestone street, Rubel was nearly run over by armored troops loyal to the Council of Lords marching past. They knocked him aside, rushing towards the Lord Mayor's Residence and the amber glow of a burgeoning fire. Rubel scrambled to his feet, weaving his way through the panicked crowds fleeing towards the city's southeastern gate. His hustle was warranted, as his attacker was following only half a block behind, weaving through the crowds himself. Although slowed down by the crowds, it was clear Rubel was losing ground.

He poured his heart and sweat into reaching the entrance to one of Rabona's southern wall's fortified towers. Unfortunately, the entrance area to the nearest tower had turned into a war zone, with Council and Royalist troops engaged in fatal duels. In front of him a Loyalist halberdier deflected a Royalist swordsman's initial thrust, and using the longer reach of his weapon counterattacked by swinging the halberd horizontally. It connected with the chainmail neck armor of the swordsmen and parted it easily, slicing through the front of the neck as a spurt of blood sprayed out, some drops reaching Rubel's bare head.

It snapped him out of observation of the gruesome scene, as he pushed into midst of battle. He dodged past a Royalist spearman impaling his opponent, jumped over two grievously wounded Royalists, then knocked a surprised Loyalist halberdier to the side and arrived at the tower's base. Rubel gripped the steel door's handle and pulled; it was more than a little alarming that it didn't budge. He tried again, but the heavy door didn't move.

Rubel looked back and saw the silver-eyed assassin rapidly approaching, but instead of approaching through the chaos of battle had run across rooftops. He was pulling out his crossbow a hundred yards away when Louvre realized he was a sitting duck of a target. Not only did the assassin have a clear shot, but he had the high ground.

"Shit," Rubel cursed.

He looked to his right and found a large pulley. Rising above it into the dark of night was a large, taut rope. Rubel could just barely make out a large weight above him in the dark. An idea came to him, and facing no other way out, he took it. Louvre rushed to the taut rope, grabbing hold of it in one hand. With the other he slashed the rope with a good knife.

It was not a moment too soon, for as he was pulled skywards at great speed a crossbow bolt missed his feet by inches and slammed into the wall. Rubel became unnerved when he began going far faster than he had counted upon. He looked up and saw the lifting pulley fast approaching, timed his speed, and let go of the rope at the last moment.

With a bit of luck, he caught onto the pulley as the weight finally smashed into the ground below, and judging by the sudden screams and their quick ends had crushed several men. Rubel didn't bother looking, but instead kicked out and began swinging the pulley. After a few seconds he had built enough of a swing to risk the leap to the wall. He soared a few yards and landed hard upon the ramparts, tumbling over and onto the top of the five-story tall stone wall.

Rubel got up and looked triumphantly back, but his smile at escaping vanished. The hooded assassin hadn't been doing nothing in the interim, but instead was cutting across the roofs to Rubel's right. It was obvious where the assassin was going: a very tall church bell tower conveniently overlooked the nearby city walls. It was more than high enough to jump onto the walls for any slayer, a fact that meant the chase was still on.

"Damn you, Count Tuluzy," Rubel cursed.

He rushed off in the opposite direction, towards the bridging wall over the Toulouse River. Rubel found the wall was not empty, but rather full of Royalist troops, most of whom were too busy firing crossbows at Loyalists below to notice him as he ran past. At most they might slow down his assailant, a fact that pushed Rubel to an all-out run. He could feel the sweat pouring off him even in the cool night as he ran ever nearer to the river.

Rubel noticed the bridging wall was nearly two stories shorter than the main wall, an inconvenient fact for him. The wall didn't so much continue as it became a fortified, arched stone bridge with ramparts on top. This continued on to connect with a four-story fortified tower founded upon a small artificial island in the river's center. Rubel noticed a line attached to a strong pole used to display flags that connected with a similar pole atop the tower. It proved capable of withstanding his weight.

Rubel grabbed his zip-line hook and looked back. He almost wished he hadn't, for the assassin was far closer than he'd counted upon. There, not twenty yards distant was the rapidly approaching assassin running straight for him. Rubel wasted no time putting the hook on the rope and pushed off. He was descending but at a speed not fast enough for his comfort. Rubel looked back and saw the slayer stop short. He smiled and waved in triumph, as he was fast approaching the relative safety of Queen Violetta's young warriors on the opposite river bank.

The assassin cut the Gordian knot-like problem short by simply chopping the pole Rubel's rope was attached to off with a quick slash of his short sword.

"Goddamn you," Rubel cursed.

The rope immediately lost tension, and Rubel dropped as the rope did. He somersaulted as best he could onto the top of the wall, but his momentum was too much. He hit the wooden door of the tower and smashed through, flattening it. His body continued on its way into the tower's darkened, top floor until he landed in something soft and stopped upside-down. They turned out to be flags, a piece of luck for him.

Rubel awkwardly disentangled himself and came to his feet in the dark. Visible through the now gaping opening where the door used to be was the assassin, several hundred yards distant. His assailant had landed on one knee, took out his sword and sprinted straight towards him. Rubel's only warning of what came next was a quintet of yoki signatures above him. The slayer was forced to slow down and deflect several incoming arrows fired at him.

None hit, and Rubel knew that given Queen Violetta's young warriors' inexperience, this fight would be over once they were forced into sword-range. Rubel tried to rush to the window to jump out into the river when he ran into something and was knocked back. He looked up and noticed the faint outline of a large mounted ballista in the dark. It looked out upon the southern approach to Rabona and the merchant ships docked in the burgeoning harbor nearby.

There was simply no better choice; he had to use it. He gripped the ballista by the end, and even though he possessed greater strength than the average man, he was nowhere as superhuman as a claymore. It took excruciating effort, but finally he had turned the ballista to face towards the opening where the door had once stood.

The slayer was closer again by half, deflecting and dodging arrows almost desperately, as the young warriors were proving better archers than Rubel had expected. He noticed the slayer didn't seem to see him in the darkened room. This would make what came next more than just a foolish shot. He frantically searched for and then found a single ballista bolt, which was as wide as his wrist and longer than his arm.

He loaded the bolt into the ballista and rushed to fire. Except it went nowhere, and the assassin was coming still closer.

"Goddammit," Rubel cursed; he'd completely forgotten to wind up the weapon.

In desperation, with sweat pouring off him, Rubel wound up the ballista for the shot. With the weapon finally wound up, Rubel took careful aim. He gripped the trigger, and the large bolt left the weapon with a solid "ka-thunk". It flew with astonishing speed, spinning, straight towards the assassin. Rubel's lightly wounded assailant, having just partially deflected an arrow into his left arm, reacted with astounding skill. He brought up his sword, but this only deflected the bolt, and it was his misfortunate that it deflected straight into his neck at a lesser speed.

The assassin went limp and was knocked backwards off the fortified bridge and into the dark of the night. Rubel heard a splash from the river a moment later.

He held his arms up in triumph, shouting, "I am invincible!"

Count Andrei Tuluzy's best-laid plan for his demise had just met a grisly and early end. The fate of Rabona was now literally in his hands. For the first time all day Rubel couldn't help but grin.

* * *

Helen was running as fast as she could, but Renée was proving too fast as she headed, enraged, towards the southwestern wall of Rabona. To Helen's right was the large harbor, and due to it there were countless fences, and roads to get over in the otherwise bare field. The southwestern walls were still incomplete at one point in their center, where they were only three stories tall. Judging by the way Renée was headed straight for it, it looked like she planned to jump it and get into the city. The only problem was that there were five young enemy claymores just waiting for the enraged Renée to it.

"What the hell are you doing Helen?"

Helen looked left in annoyance to see Anastasia keeping up.

Helen shot back, "What the frickin' hell does it look like? I'm trying to stop Renée getting killed! It's not like you're doing any better, Anastasia!"

Anastasia countered, "Then use your arms to do it!"

Helen felt as if she'd been slapped into reality. In her grief she had simply not considered using her incredibly stretchy arms. But Anastasia was right, now was just the time to use them.

Helen raised her right arm, took aim at Renée , and with a surge of yoki extended it at incredible speed. It actually extended out past Renée 's right arm, but Helen corrected, sweeping low and left. Her arm wrapped around Renée 's feet, and she toppled with a shocked yelp.

A moment later a huge ballista bolt hit the ground feet in front of Renée 's face.

"Not a moment too soon," Anastasia gasped. "There's no way we could deflect something that large!"

Helen yelled, "Come on, help me drag her to safety!"

Anastasia, Yuma, Miata and several others instead grabbed Helen and ran backwards with her. Helen yelled out in pain, as being hoisted and run backwards while dragging a struggling Renée with her arm wrapped around Renée 's feet was not what her body wanted.

"Oww, oww, oww, motherfucking son a bitch of Teresa's mother, God does that fucking hurt," Helen cursed.

They eventually stopped, and Miata and Anastasia rushed over to tackle Renée before she could pull free. Yuma for her part helped Helen to her feet as she retracted the right arm. It stopped retracting when it was roughly as long as Helen's whole body.

Yuma asked unhelpfully, "Are you ok, Helen?"

Helen's chance to retort was stolen by Renée 's angry yelling as tears dripped down her face, "Let me go, let me go, I'm going to tear them limb-from-limb! Let me go Miata!"

Miata for her part unceremoniously dumped Renée in the midst of her nearly thirty-strong comrades. Renée got knocked flat onto her butt by Anastasia when she tried to run again.

"Get a hold of yourself, Renée ," Anastasia snapped. "You're never going to take bloody revenge when you're not thinking."

"Good evening ladies," a chillingly familiar male voice boomed.

Helen, startled, glanced back towards the southwestern walls. It took a moment, but atop a large ballista and silhouetted by the glow of the fire far behind him, was Rubel. He wiped his face with something while Helen noticed there was a young claymore manning the ballista.

"We were beginning to wonder if you'd ever come and join the festivities," Rubel said with almost nonchalance, clearly enjoying himself.

"You are a fucking bastard, Rubel," Renée shouted back.

Rubel laughed, "Rabona is ours, ladies! We have crossbowmen stationed on all the walls, Phantom Miria has been blown to oblivion, I have personally assassinated the entire Council of Lords, your friends Claire, Raki and their lovely twins are all gone, and their Majesties have just declared Rabona a part of the Grand Alliance! Give up now and their Majesties will be willing to exile you all. Resist and you'll die just like Claire and Miria!"

Natalie collapsed, sobbing and wailing, "Mama, Papa, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

Anastasia looked shocked, "Not Claire and Raki's family too!"

"You're nothing but a despicable child-killer, Rubel," Tabitha spat, tears streaming down her cheeks much like everyone else's, "little Victor and Teresa were no threat to you!"

Helen had heard enough, "Don't listen to him, he's a professional liar! I refuse anything that comes out his foul mouth. Until I see their bodies myself, I refuse to believe a word out of him! We are not going to give up now, not in the future, not ever! We are claymores; we're stronger, faster, and more lethal than anything they can throw at us. We do not give up! Come on, everyone put your swords together."

Helen was forced to draw her sword with her left arm, and soon all the others, whether sobered, sobbing, disconsolate or vengeful, followed her lead. The clang of metal rang out as they finished drawing their swords in a circle.

Helen did her best to hide her fears while speaking, "Warriors, we've fought, we've bled, and we've died to protect Rabona. We may not be able to detect Miria, but it wouldn't be the first time we thought she was dead, now is it? I say we work together and prove Rubel wrong right here, right now. He can't stop all of us, and you all know it. We will take back our city!"

Anastasia couldn't help but interject, "But to beat someone like Rubel we need more than all of us. We need a plan!"

Helen countered, "Then give me a plan that has a shot at succeeding, Anastasia!"

Renée 's face brightened for some odd reason.

Renée interjected, "I have an idea that might work."

"Great, then tell us already," Helen said in frustration.

Renée hesitated yet again.

Helen snapped, "Oh for God's sakes, Renée , out with it!"

"My plan will work, but you're not going to like it."

Helen felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she asked, "And why's that?"


	17. Chapter 16: The Fate of Rabona

**Chapter 16: The Fate of Rabona**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A History of Toulouse"**

**The Romanow Empire and Grand Alliance had been running a secret war against each other within days of the empress' emissaries arriving in Toulouse. Running the Grand Alliance's secret war was the talented former intra-Organization spy, Rubel Louvre. Rubel had already done quite a bit of damage by the time the Imperial Romanow Ambassador came to the conclusion Rubel had to go. Although many Toulousan historians still deny it, the fact was that Rubel's actions had fundamentally altered the island's politics. The island was two centuries behind the mainland after all, and Rabona's lack of an intelligence service was sorely felt.**

**Rubel was made the Grand Alliance Intelligence's Chief Field Agent and Deputy Station Chief in Rabona. Backed by the full financial and human resource might of the world's greatest superpower, Rubel's field network began to infiltrate every layer of Toulousan society, including even Miria's household. Just before the Toulousan Inquisition broke out, Rubel was able to use this network to funnel an astounding 10,000 crossbows to the Kingdom of Lautrec, Rabona's enemy. Lautrec then diverted many to the Toulousan Inquisition, which in turn would later push Lord Mayor Zaehringen to fatefully unify his country with King Philippe's.**

**Upon its embassy's arrival, the Romanow Empire set up its own intelligence network under Baron Josef Lazarov. Within weeks Lazarov knew of Rubel's weapons' smuggling, and Lazarov made his accusations known to the Council of Lords. Lautrec was forced to curtail its operations, dramatically weakening the Inquisition. After suffering a stinging defeat at the hands of Colonel Helen's troops, the Inquisition was finally crushed by Phantom Miria weeks later.**

**Faced with an imminent collapse in his plans, Rubel took drastic action. He used religious fanatics to kill Baron von Staufen before his investigation revealed the Grand Alliance & Lautrec's involvement in the insurgency. This killing conveniently for Rubel convinced Zaehringen to end the insurgency via unification with King Philippe's Lautrec. Rubel outdid himself next by freeing Dae Prado, simultaneously making Phantom Miria look incompetent and providing the Angevin royals a way to hybridize their own followers.**

**Louvre also acquired the membership list of the Monarchist League. Led by Colonel Renée , they backed proclaiming "Phantom" Miria as Toulouse's absolute monarch. With help from Queen Violetta, Rubel forged the names of nearly every claymore onto the list. Zaehringen, provided with this tampered 'evidence', turned the army on its silver-eyed officers. They fled, and thus King Philippe's loyal servant, Lieutenant General Sebelius, was now top commander after Miria's arrest, making Rabona ripe for a coup.**

**Now however Rubel and his conspirators would face their greatest test: stopping Miria's distraught and vengeful comrades from ruining their plans…**

* * *

The night had barely begun and already Rubel was growing less sure of what his enemies were planning. He was standing atop the massive southwestern wall of Rabona, watching his nearly thirty-strong enemies milling around. Only they weren't at all where he was planning; they had moved into the harbor. More specifically Helen and Renée were atop the crow's nest of a massive seven-story tall trading galleon.

Rubel glanced over at the young claymore girl in a form-fitting red and gold outfit manning the nearest ballista, "Any idea what they're planning?"

"I'm not sure Sir," the amateur warrior hazarded, "maybe they're going to use a ship against us or ram through the river wall bridge?"

His guess wasn't helped much by the young warrior, but she was right that whatever they were planning it involved a ship.

Rubel couldn't chance it, so he snapped to the young warrior, "Alejandra, I want you on the count of ten to fire your ballista into that ship."

* * *

"This is frickin' crazy Renée , and you know it!"

Renée folded her arms and ignored Helen's not entirely unreasonable objection, "I thought you said we were going to take back the city. If you're not willing to do it, we're going to take a lot more casualties getting into Rabona and even more beating back the usurpers. We do it my way and send in our top warrior over the walls, and chances are good we'll get in without a casualty. I would rather send in Miata and not lose anyone than a dozen of us die just getting over the walls trying to dodge Rubel's silver-eyed pets."

Helen glanced at the walls over the river and sighed, "You just had to make me regret saving your ass, didn't you? Why is it whenever somebody wants to do something crazy I'm always the first person they involve?"

"Must have something to do with your proven track record of greatness in that area," Anastasia interrupted, climbing up into the already crowded crow's nest.

Yuma's voice yelled, "Look out!"

A moment later the whole mast shook violently back and forth, Helen being saved from flying straight out by Renée 's desperate lunge. A few moments later the ship stabilized, but it unnerved Helen. She could feel the strong breeze whipping her hair, and even more alarming was the seven story drop she saw below. She rushed for the ladder down before both Renée and Anastasia caught up.

"Helen, there's no backing out now," Anastasia pointed out.

"I'm sorry our ballistas have disturbed your evening," Rubel's voice called out, "you can rest assured if you stay there that ship will be riddled with our bolts."

Helen looked out over the water with Renée and Anastasia to see Rubel silhouetted ominously against the glowing, fiery skyline of Rabona. Rubel had one knee upon the ramparts, leaning over and even in the dim light it appeared as if he were grinning. It was enough to make Renée clench her fists.

"You can't sink something this big with that, Rubel," Anastasia bit back, "come on Helen, it's time to show him he's underestimated us."

"This is not going to work," Helen objected, "there is no way you're stretching me into the shape of a human slingshot and using my body to send Miata over the walls. My body is made out of flesh and bone; just because I can stretch my limbs does not mean I can fling Miata over the walls like a slingshot. Then you expect her to somehow land without killing herself, fight through only a couple thousand enemy soldiers, a bunch with crossbows, open a gate, and somehow we stop the whole coup with just the thirty of us. It's just bloody impossible!"

"You told Miria the same thing about overthrowing the Organization, and look how that turned out," Renée reminded her.

Helen seethed with indignation, "That was different, and if this doesn't work—"

Renée and Anastasia shouted, "Get on with it, Helen!"

Helen reluctantly extended out her right arm and was straining as she finally managed to grasp the mast of another ship opposite. It was tied up, but even then it was drifting back and forth several inches, making the strain on her arm painful.

"Come on then, get the rest of your body out there," Renée said, kicking Helen off the crow's nest.

Helen held tight onto both masts and despite her best efforts felt her stretched limbs sagging, causing her to sink several stories. She yelped when Yuma and Tabitha reached out from opposite masts' rigging to grab her feet. They stretched her legs, the result being she looked like a giant letter X suspended between two ships.

Renée had zip-lined over to the crow's nest of the other mast opposite Anastasia and shouted, "She's secure here!"

Anastasia responded, "Same here!"

Tabitha shouted, "I'm good!"

"I've got her," Natalie shouted, tugging on the rope tied strongly around Helen's waist.

"FuUUuuucccCCCCKKkkkkKK!"

Helen cursed out loudly as a dozen of her comrades pulled her taut backwards, her limbs not wanting to stretch much farther. The pain was excruciating to say the least. Eventually, after several less than helpful sudden jerks on the rope, Helen was grabbed and tied into position on the deck of a small boat. There was only one rope holding her in position, which was tied around the mast. This would allow her peers to sever it easily as planned.

"Alright Miata, step up and get ready," Clarice ordered.

Miata sat upon Helen's frame, adding yet more strain as Miata positioned herself.

Miata glanced back and asked, "How do you feel?"

Helen shot back, "How do I feel? How the hell do you think I feel looking like a giant slingshot? My body's not meant to do this and you ask how I feel? Yeeeooowww!"

Natalie and curly-haired Camilla were busily shifting the boat, and by extension, where Helen was aimed.

Helen yelped in objection, "Hey, how about giving me a warning?"

"Aim is good, alright Miata, it's now or never," Camilla urged, unrepentant, "are you up for it?"

Helen saw Miata nodded yes, and a moment later Clarice swung her blade down onto the rope holding Helen's body in the shape of a taut slingshot. What followed was the most excruciatingly painful and scary moment of her life.

* * *

Rubel frowned, looking in the dark at whatever his enemies were doing. Unless he had somehow fallen into a dream, his eyes were telling him that the claymores had stretched the flexible Helen into the shape of a taut slingshot. Of all the things he had been counting on, this was not one of them.

"Clever girls," Rubel muttered, cursing their ingenuity.

Suddenly the tension on Helen's body was ended, and whoever she was carrying was shot forward along with Helen. Rubel watched in astonishment as Miata left Helen's 'slingshot' and flew skyward at a prodigious rate.

He barely managed to shout, "Shoot her down!"

Miata the next moment flew by several stories higher than the wall, giving the warriors under his command no time at all to react. Miata, despite wearing her immense sword and moving at incredible speed, managed a controlled spin. This she finished off with aplomb, hitting the river behind in a beautifully-arced dive. Only as Rubel stretched out his senses, it was clear Miata wasn't the only yoki to be worrying about in Rabona.

* * *

Her eyes blinked open, but it was difficult to focus them. All Miria could see was a slowly sharpening haze. A few seconds after opening her eyes Miria noticed a pile of rubble about her. She was lying on the side of a rubbish heap over a story high, and from it Miria could feel heat, smell the smoke of dying fires, and even see several fires within the pile. Several burning pieces of lumber lit the area just enough to make out the whole scene.

Miria felt herself coming to her senses, battered, hurting all over, and noticed her hearing of the flames seemed oddly dimmed. She felt blood trickling down both sides of her head. It was dripping from her ears; she had quite simply gotten both her eardrums blown out during the horrendous shock wave.

Despite her best efforts, Miria was barely able to wiggle from where she was stuck in the side of a massive pile of rubble. Her legs were caught, leaving her belly-down torso relatively free. From what little of herself she could see, Miria noticed she was covered all over by cuts, scrapes, dust and blood. Wedged into the rubble over her legs was the warrior Virginia.

"Virginia, wake up, come on—"

Miria stopped when she recoiled in horror at the cinder block corner that had gouged a small, bloody hole into back of Virginia's skull.

"Virginia, no, please not you," Miria cried, weeping at the loss of yet another innocent as she gingerly touched Virginia's clean face.

She covered the mortal wound with the un-bloodied parts of Virginia's startling white hair. There wouldn't be much point in staying long; Virginia would have wanted her to survive. Miria summoned all of her strength, and with a jerk pulled herself free. She also immediately slid painfully down the rubble pile as her legs came free.

It was hard not to gasp in pain; her left leg was flopping around the opposite direction it should have at the knee.

Miria didn't even bother trying to stand; it was obvious her right leg was scarcely in better shape. Judging by the numb but increasing pain, Miria figured the femur had been fractured. She was not about to start walking within a few minutes. Turning over, Miria concentrated her mind and ignored the pain to pop her knee back in its socket.

She gasped, breathing hard from the pain and effort. It was at this moment Miria noticed a familiar yoki away to the south. She pushed her yoki as high as she could while healing her legs. If Miata wasn't coming for her, then things would get tricky, as she couldn't possibly heal in time to make a run for it.

* * *

"Majesties, the warrior Miata has breached the walls," Marcella abruptly announced to Violetta.

Violetta yelled in fury, "How did she get in?"

"I don't know," Marcella admitted, "but she's swimming towards the eastern shore of the river and looks to be headed towards the old town square. Shall I stop her?"

They were still watching events atop the royal palace's highest tower, which was ensconced within the incomplete citadel in the new western half of Rabona. Across the river a torrent of flame and smoke was visible engulfing much of old Rabona's town square. In particular the Lord Mayor's Residence and its spire were starting to catch fire. If the city's ruling elite aside from claymores wasn't already dead, Violetta thought it would be astonishing.

If Miata was headed towards the old town square, that could only mean…

"Don't engage her," Violetta instructed, "she's far too strong. She follows her orders absolutely, so if she's going to the old town square it means she's not concerned with us yet."

Violetta's handsome dark-haired husband, Philippe, tensed as he took out his collapsible hand telescope and focused it on the rubble where Rabona's citadel had once stood.

Philippe cursed, "Shit, no, no, no, how can there still be survivors?"

Violetta glanced through her hand telescope. Glancing across the river towards the ruined citadel, she spotted a female pulling free of the rubble pile and sliding down its side. The woman looked like an exact match for Phantom Miria. Violetta felt her anger and blood pressure rise instantly.

Violetta yelled, "By the Gods, she's still alive! Marcella, get to Miria before Miata gets new orders and behead her yourself! You can still take her when she's this weak."

Marcella looked unsure as she asked, "Shall I take the whole squad and leave you unguarded?"

"Don't worry, I'll be going someplace safer," Violetta reassured. "Philippe will watch over everything from here under the Royal Guard's protection. Take all nine of your comrades and finish her off while we still have the chance! If we kill her before she recovers, we can win the war that will follow."

Moments later Marcella and her peers ran towards their target at top speed.

* * *

Audrey looked out on the blazing inferno that was Rabona from the relative safety of the Teresian Cathedral's southeast bell-tower's belfry. Huddled around center, away from the smoke-scented night winds were dozen of Romanowan citizens. Next to Audrey was her hawk-nosed, silver-eyed husband, Andrei, known to all but her as the Imperial Romanow Ambassador. He was dressed in his finest, but also was carrying his lethal duratium-forged halberd.

An embassy staffer dressed in black and gold rushed up and bowed before Andrei, "Your Excellency, we have brought them up as requested."

Andrei anxiously put a hand through his hair and looked around, "Put them down on the carpets over there."

"Yes, Excellency," the man answered, and ran off towards the stairs shouting new orders.

"A shame about the embassy going up in flames," Andrei said ruefully, looking at the illuminated trail of smoke from where it had once stood ten stories below.

"We got everyone out, Andrei, there's nothing more we can do here but protect the cathedral," Audrey reassured her husband with a rub on the shoulder.

Audrey turned when she heard men struggling, and out of the stairwell came three gangs of men, each group carrying an unconscious person.

Audrey motioned them over, "Put Claire, Raki and Galatea on the carpets."

The three unconscious claymores were lugged over, gently put down, and then the men left as quickly as they came. Audrey examined Claire, who was just beginning to show a tiny bump in the belly. She put her hand over it, sensing if the drugs had worked an even more dastardly effect upon the developing child.

Audrey sighed in relief, "Well that's almost a miracle; the drugs did not cause her to miscarry. Andrei dear, please post at least a couple of marines to watch over them. Oh no, where are her twins? Andrei?"

Andrei was staring intently right past the unconscious claymores towards a young man with an immediately familiar, slightly receded hairline. He had familiar blue eyes, a well-made, royal nose, and was generally fetching in appearance, if a bit scraggly from not having shaven recently. Audrey paused in surprise; she was not expecting to run into such a familiar if unwelcome person as this.

Andrei recovered first, speaking in Comnenian, "Mister Comnenus, I am surprised to find you caring for Claire's twins so early into your exile. How did that come to be?"

Both little Teresa and Victor were clutching onto Alexander's legs, hiding away from Andrei, who must have scared them.

Alexander scowled upon seeing both of them, "My title is His Royal Majesty, the King of Comnenia; I will be damned if I let her win and force me to lose my titles."

Andrei countered in a smooth voice, "You know full well what the terms of your exile were, and reclaiming the titles you abdicated—"

"Under duress," Alexander snapped, "or have you forgotten what your beloved Cesarzowa did to my family? I might have been her latest victim but for two of this island's independent claymores. And let's not forget she unleashed a civil war that killed—"

"Stop," Audrey interrupted, "look, we can argue about things when there's not a war going on outside. Right now I need you to look after the twins and the others while we keep the Grand Alliance's troops out of the cathedral."

Alexander's voice wavered, "The Grand Alliance is here?"

Andrei motioned towards the belfry's fenced-off edge, "Take a look."

Audrey could hear the sounds of wounded, dying, and living men even before she looked down. Alexander looked down at a spot a good distance away, disdaining contact with them. He gasped, which didn't surprise her, as the battle below was horrific. Men lay dead all over, some were alive but wounded, and still others were engaged in a haphazard field of combat. It stretched throughout the square and beyond.

Making the scene appear yet more hellish was the fact that the surrounding parts of the old town square were on fire. The Lord Mayor's Residence in particular was burning wildly, flaming shooting out of almost all its windows.

"My lady," a woman's voice interrupted.

Audrey turned to find a female servant holding her baby son, Andrei II, in blue blankets and realized she could barely hear his crying over the din of battle.

Audrey took him and cradled him, but it was no use.

Suddenly his father was rushing by, and Audrey quickly handed her son back to his wet nurse and rushed after him. Andrei was clambering down the stairs as Audrey kept up as best she could, yelling after him.

Audrey blurted out, "Andrei, wait, where are you going?"

"She's here," Andrei shouted back, "Marcella van Dam's in the city right now!"

"No, I would've sensed her," Audrey yelled back.

Andrei ran into a room full of embassy staff shouting, "Josef, she's here, the warrior that tried to help O'Malley kill the Cesarzowa is here in the city."

Long-haired Josef Lazarov, Andrei's deputy, looked up from several papers in surprise as Andrei rushed up to him.

Josef was unconvinced, "Your Excellency, there are only the neophyte warriors under the command of the royals, not—"

"She's masquerading as a neophyte," Andrei snapped, "I should have noticed the way her yoki felt ages ago. Just stretch out your senses and tell me you can sense it too."

Audrey closed her eyes as she stopped next to her husband and reached out into the darkness. Heading almost towards them but not quite was a set of five warriors' yokis. Leading them was one that was a bit stronger than all the others. But as Audrey concentrated more, the yoki seemed to reveal more and more until…

"It's her," Audrey gasped while opening her eyes, "I think it's Marcella."

"I'm not convinced, but I'll send out the assassins after her if you want," Josef offered.

"She's out of their league, and besides, we already lost Mario Fiorentina this evening," Andrei noted, "and we need them here to secure the cathedral. No, the only one capable of taking her on is me."

Audrey grabbed him by the arm to stop him, "No, you can't do this to me, Andrei. If you go out there and get yourself killed, what will I tell our boy?"

Andrei sighed, "Audrey, we have kill-on-sight orders for Marcella van Dam. That girl has killed Silver Guards and tried to kill the Cesarzowa."

"I agree with Audrey," Josef declared, "you're taking too big of a risk, begging your pardon, Your Excellency."

"You're not going out with him either," Audrey declared, "not when you're going to be outnumbered and taking on that girl. She's a—"

A number of men slick with sweat noisily interrupted by trundling in a large wooden trunk into the room. This they set down with a loud ka-thunk a few feet away.

"Excellency, we've brought the armor up," the exhausted foreman said, pointing to the trunk with one hand while wiping sweat off his forehead with the other.

"I take it back dear," Andrei answered, "all three of us will be going."

* * *

Natalie felt her mother's yoki the moment it appeared, as did practically every one of her comrades. A shout of disbelief and unbridled relief rang out from the claymores gathered on the ships. Natalie looked up to her right to see Renée raise her arms into the air in triumph. Renée had however been pinning Helen's much stretched right arm to the crow's nest, and her letting go was immediately noticed.

Helen cried out in fear as her slack body began plummeting and then swung towards the other ship to which she was tied, where Anastasia had not let go.

Helen cussed, "Oh shit!"

Helen's swing ended with a painful smack against the side of a mast followed immediately thereafter by Helen's pained yelping. A few moments later Helen was dangling delicately a story above the ship's deck

Helen chewed Renée out while flinching as she hung from her elongated left arm, "Renée , goddammit, this is why you don't let go!"

"But Miria's alive," Renée countered, seeking an excuse for battering Helen accidentally.

Helen yelled back, "Would it kill you to apologize, Renée ?"

Yuma walked up alongside Natalie, intently looking right past the fracas towards the southwestern walls, where Rubel was ordering around the young claymores loyal to the traitors.

Natalie nudged her elder comrade, "Yuma, what's the matter?"

"Oh no, this is bad; we shouldn't have sent in Miata," Yuma groaned, putting a hand on her forehead, "we told her to get one of the gates open. She follows her orders to the letter, just notice her yoki, she's not even approaching Miria! We need to get someone to save Miria before our enemies reach her."

"I'll go," Tabitha volunteered, walking up, "have Helen shoot me over the wall and I'll save her myself!"

"Come on Helen, get ready for another shot," Tabitha shouted.

This might as well been shouted to a wall, as Helen was busy telling Renée where she was going to stuff Renée 's panties if Renée let go of her arm again.

Natalie noticed in alarm that Rubel's silver-eyed subordinates were moving, and in a direction that would take them closer to her mother. She had to act, as they would never be able to get Tabitha over the wall in time.

She knew one trick from what her mother had once done at the battle of Kerouac Gorge, and she was going to use it. Natalie began running towards the highest part of the galleon she was upon, the stern. Tabitha and Yuma whipped around, looking surprised by her actions.

Yuma shouted, "Don't do it, Natalie!"

Natalie ignored Yuma and pushed all her efforts into creating two wings with concentrated yoma energy upon her back. In a surge of pain, pleasure, and an increasing amount of weight upon her back, two massive, feathery wings sprouted there. Natalie had made up her mind; she was flying into Rabona and saving her mother before Rubel's minions could reach her.

* * *

Rubel knew Miata well enough; sure enough the girl, who hadn't expected Miria's yoki to turn up, had instead blindly followed orders rather than rush to her side. It was Miata's one fatal flaw in that she was never able to react to unexpected events appropriately until too late.

He was watching Miata swim to the shore beyond him, well aware crossing her path meant certain death. She pulled out of the water near the central bridge and immediately began smashing her way towards the burning Lord Mayor's Residence through Royalist troops. Miata rounded a street corner and passed out of Rubel's sight from atop the wall.

"Alright, she won't be a danger for awhile," Rubel said to the five young claymores gathered before him, "we will use the zip-line I set up between this wall and Rabona's central bridge. You will then go to the old citadel and finish off Phantom Miria before she heals."

A young claymore with long, straight, pure white hair hesitated, "But sir, Phantom Miria is far too dangerous for us to take down. Even Marcella couldn't do it if she's ready for us."

"All the more reason to help Marcella now," Rubel reasoned, "you had better hurry, Jewel, Marcella's group is already on their way."

White-haired Jewel, barely thirteen, gave him a pointed stare before sighing.

"We'll help out Marcella," Jewel said without enthusiasm while grabbing onto a zip-line hook, "I'll go first and you follow."

Jewel pushed off the wall and descended on the zip-line straight towards Rabona's central bridge, where a post held the other end of the line. The other claymores followed her example, while Rubel waited a few moments as soldiers rushed up to salute Rubel.

The armored Royalist halberdier saluted, "Monsieur Louvre, I have brought you two companies. You want us to secure the walls?"

"Yes, and man the ballistae. We must keep all other claymores from breaching the city," Rubel explained. "I must oversee an operation; take charge, captain."

Rubel spared the comrades of Miria one final glance, noticing they were desperately trying to stretch Helen for yet another shot over the walls. It wouldn't come soon enough; their little trick had the side effect of severely straining Helen's body, making it hard to repeat. The only thing that struck him as off was an odd yoki he could not identify somewhere over the river, which he was unable to identify.

Rubel didn't have time to investigate, but instead grabbed a zip-line hook and jumped. His descent was relatively rapid, and far ahead of him he could see Jewel and most of the claymores were nearing the line's end. He glanced back as the mysterious yoki approached, not from below but from above and behind.

He looked over both shoulders, but this proved inadequate to spot the source. Rubel reassured himself it was just one of the enemy claymores flying over the wall. He kept descending, his attention distracted by the immense blaze now engulfing much of Rabona's old city. Flames were visible all around the Teresian Cathedral, but it remained untouched.

The distraction lasted until the zip-line shook alarmingly, as if a great weight had landed upon it. Rubel in desperation threw his legs around zip-line to prevent being flung off. He looked behind to see something he wished he hadn't: Miria's claymore daughter, Natalie was balancing herself atop the zip-line.

Only Natalie's eyes were glowing, yellow slits, and upon her back were two massive awakened wings, black and white in coloration like those of Miria's Rubel had seen from afar.

"Bravo on figuring out how to fly," Rubel congratulated her, "you're cleverer than I thought."

"And you're not going to kill my mother," Natalie hissed, "this is for all your evil deeds."

Natalie took out her blade flapped her wings strongly, allowing her to hover just a little above the line, causing it to wobble like mad. The next second she clumsily swung the blade while flying and sliced through the zip-line cable. Rubel, having wrapped his legs around the cable, found himself attached to it as it began swinging and plummeting at tremendous speed.

Rubel let go of the zip-line too late, as the swing had already decided his fate. Incoming was the wall of stone of Rabona's southernmost bridge. He could only scream in futility as his fall took him straight for the bridge's side.

* * *

Galk narrowly dodged the flaming debris from a storefront as it smashed onto the cobblestone street. Several of his men weren't so lucky. Galk waved his men back towards the front lines, where a life-and-death struggle was going on between the Loyalists and the Royalists.

The front line was stretched between the untouched majesty of the Teresian Cathedral, towering over them all on Galk's right, and the burning inferno of the Lord Mayor's Residence.

An officer in armor arrived behind Galk's lines with hundreds of fresh soldiers. Galk naturally ran over to him, both men saluting each other.

Galk sighed in relief, "Soult, am I damned glad to see you, how are we holding up? Any luck pushing the Royalists back?"

Soult, a much shorter man, nodded, "We've pushed the bastards out of almost the entirety of southeastern Rabona and we're pushing them back to the southernmost and northernmost bridges. I see it's hard to push them back in the center while also fighting this bloody inferno."

Galk heard the crumbling of bricks and looked up. The tall brick and wood tower of the Lord Mayor's Residence was crumbling. He shouted a warning to his troops, some of whom were too engaged in life-and-death struggles already to hear him over the din of battle.

"Too late for it, General, run for it," Soult said as they ran for cover.

The tremor and the screams shortly before it were horrendous, the tower's fall crushing hundreds of men under tons of debris and smoking embers. The result was a giant pile of smoking debris over a story tall dividing the old town square. It barely ended before reaching the front steps of the Teresian Cathedral, which was too far away to be touched.

"The whole town square's going up in flames," Soult lamented, "we have to crush them first, don't we General?"

"It's an enemy claymore come to kill us," a soldier shouted in alarm, pointing at a silhouette of a warrior wrapped in smoke and lit by the soft glow of dying embers.

Galk motioned his remaining pikemen to form up into defensive formation, for all the good it would do them, he thought ruefully. He had too few crossbowmen behind them to really make a decent claymore think twice. But then again from what little his men had seen of the Royals' pet warriors, they were very young. Perhaps they would be lucky.

The silhouette began to move through the smoke towards them, and Galk held up his arm to signal the anxious crossbowmen to open fire. Something about the silhouette made him hesitate however.

Soult looked at him questioningly, "Major General?"

The claymore jumped out of the giant cloud of smoke, their long hair fluttering in the breeze sweeping the old town square. The crossbowmen shifted their aim directly at her, aiming between the pikemen. Trigger fingers squeezed a little tighter as the men readied what they hoped would be a lethal volley. As the claymore walked closer, Galk readied to give the signal.

They cleared the smoke and Galk saw a warrior with a budding female figure, long legs, a beautiful face and long hair.

"Hold your fire, it's Miata," Galk shouted, the men belatedly following his order as they recognized his words and Miata before them.

"Thank the angels, it's one of our own," Soult muttered.

Galk rushed to meet Miata, "What news, what happened to the soldiers who were attacking us?"

"They're dead," Miata said simply, and Galk noticed in discomfort her blade was dripping blood, "I killed those in my way and the others fled. Is the southeastern gate open? The others sent me to open up a way into Rabona."

"This is the best news we've had all day," Soult crowed, "finally, we can unleash our own warriors on the traitors!"

"Signal your comrades that the southeastern gate is once more ours," Galk ordered, "and when you've done that, you must take care of the royals."

"Galk, the queen is carrying an unborn child," Soult objected.

"Very well, Lieutenant Habsburg, you will take out the treacherous king and capture the queen, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Miata saluted, rushing off with an incredible speed.

Soult sighed as Galk moved the men forward, "I can't help think we're forgetting something important when we gave her the orders."

Galk brushed this aside, "Nonsense, I don't make those kind of mistakes."

* * *

Cid was panting as he ran, as the passageway around him and Ruud van Willems was rapidly beginning to heat up. This inferno had spread into the escape passageways from the old town square, where the fight had first turned fiery. Royalist troops in their fury had thrown torches soaked in oil into the Lord Mayor's Residence, the result being much of the old town itself was now one giant fire.

Cid just dodged a bit of flaming debris as he and Ruud rushed west, away from the fire's center and towards the river. Of course this was also straight towards Royalist troops, but Cid had bet on them not being eager to enter buildings they had begun setting fire. Thus he and Ruud were now a block away from the river and about to test one last over-street passageway. There was just one problem with this plan, which Ruud noted.

"Oh hell," Ruud cursed, stopping short of a flaming canvas hanging awkwardly from the ceiling, "that complicates things."

"I'll be damned if we stop here because of this," Cid muttered, looking around.

He spotted a broom, and with gusto took it and ran towards the hanging, flaming canvas blocking their way to the over-street passageway. With one jab, he knocked the canvas to the floor, but it took with it much of the burning rafters high above. Cid just barely jumped back in time before it hit the floor. Ironically the dropping debris kicked up a lot of dust and extinguished the flames.

Cid shouted to Ruud, "Go, go, go!"

They rushed over the smoking pile and over the rickety passageway, many of its support members giving way as they did. Cid noticed in alarm that he could see flames licking at the windows; the outer part of the structure was on fire. Cid and Ruud had just barely crossed to the relative safety of the other side when half the structure on the opposite side fell, flames and all, onto the streets below.

Ruud whistled at the damage, but Cid grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Come on, this is no time for sightseeing," Cid reasoned, "We're the last two living members of the Council of Lords. We have to survive or Rabona will be in total political chaos even if we win."

They wasted little time, rushing down the apartment building's narrow spiraling staircase to the ground floor. Cid exited the stairwell and had just opened the final door to the outside when he noticed something distressing. Only ten yards away some hundred or so Royalist troops were readying for war. The men looked more than a little surprised to see Ruud and him. Their officer however was faster-reacting.

The armored officer pointed at them, sword drawn, "It's Counts Malaga and van Willems from the Council, get them men!"

"Oh hell," Cid cursed, running back towards apartment building.

Ruud was at the door, opened it for Cid and then closed it. The wooden door nearly came off at the hinges seconds later, as Ruud had managed to bolt it shut. They quickly gathered chairs and rammed them against the shaking door, hoping their efforts might stop their enemies.

It was all for naught, for the next moment the soldiers figured out there were large glass windows on the ground floor. The smashing of glass startled Ruud, who looked surprised to see a score of soldiers readying to jump into the building through the open window.

"No point in hanging around Ruud," Cid said, grabbing his friend.

They found they couldn't lock the stairwell door on the inside, so instead they rushed to the top floor. Ruud and Cid just barely managed to bar the door with a large couch when the door began shaking; the enemy was already trying to get in. They were in the midst of piling up more furniture when the shaking stopped.

Ruud frowned, "That's odd; I didn't expect them to give up so easily."

Cid looked around for a way up to the roof when he found the reason why, "That's because it isn't the only stairwell to this floor."

There was a far larger grand staircase at the apartment building's far end, and unlike the other, it had no door.

"We've got to get to the roof," Ruud murmured.

Cid rushed to the window and found to his relief that the apartment building had an easily-grasped façade and its roof was edged with gargoyles.

"Come on Ruud, to the roof," Cid snapped.

Ruud had nearly fallen off, which would have been lethal five stories up, but they both made it up. Cid had just helped Ruud to the low-angled roof when they heard footsteps below.

"Where are they?"

"The cowards must be hiding. I want this whole building searched!"

Cid and Ruud gingerly walked away from the roof's edge towards the top of the building.

Suddenly Ruud grabbed him and they quietly hid behind the top of the roof while looking towards the Toulouse River. Cid quickly saw why.

Five claymores, all young but surely still lethal, were descending on some sort of hangers upon a long rope. They landed at rope's end almost like cats, four of the girls being led by a warrior with long white hair.

Cid scratched his head, "Where in the world did Miria get new warriors?"

Ruud sorted it out, "They aren't loyal to Miria; see the livery? Those are Angevin colors: these claymores are loyal to the traitorous Royals."

Cid whispered back, "Claymores? Where in the world did they find claymores that would serve them?"

"Probably made them using Dae Prado," Ruud reasoned, "I saw the colors and I knew we had to hide. Where do you think they're going?"

"I have no idea," Cid admitted as they raced north.

Just as the claymores became distant, a dreadfully familiar figure in black began coming closer, descending rapidly down the rope on a hanger.

"Rubel," Cid hissed quietly through gritted teeth, for downstairs the place was noisily being turned over just to find them.

Ruud pointed fearfully, "What's that?"

Cid saw something, lit eerily by the fires below, in the night sky. It was closing fast, and suddenly a winged creature of some sort descended towards Rubel and the rope holding him. Suddenly Cid noticed the flying creature's true shape in the glow of the immense blaze he could feel behind him: it was a flying claymore.

This claymore had two immense wings upon her back, each with a remarkably familiar black-white coloration. The wings were soft-edged, with fluffy feathers instead of sharp, lethal feathers Miria's wings had featured. Natalie landed awkwardly upon the zip-line, nearly toppling over from the weight of her wings, catching her balance just in time.

Rubel stopped descending, as he was now grasping onto the line with both legs. It was easy to see why; the new weight was causing the line to bounce up and down in large, jarring motions. It was a wonder he hadn't already been thrown off.

The curly-haired claymore turned her glowing yellow, slit eyes towards Louvre as she half-walked, half-beat her wings towards him.

Cid quietly gasped, "Natalie?"

Rubel impressed with his chutzpah, "Congratulations on figuring out how to fly, you're cleverer than I thought."

"Well of course she is," Cid quietly commented with fatherly pride to Ruud, "I helped Miria raise her."

Natalie countered, "And you're not going to kill mother; this is for all your evil deeds!"

With that Natalie took out her large blade while flapping her immense wings with great force, which allowed her to be just over the line but not on it. Cid noticed Rubel was beginning to unwrap one of his legs around the line. It was too late, for the next second Natalie clumsily but effectively sliced through the line.

Rubel was still wrapped around the line, and as it plummeted Cid noticed he was unable to let go just yet. The line Rubel was still upon began swinging towards the center pillar of Rabona's southernmost bridge, so Rubel let go, but it was too late. Rubel began screaming in enraged futility as he plummeted towards his doom, and with a grisly but satisfying thud, Rubel hit the bridge pillar going sideways at great speed. His body bounced off, limp, like a rag-doll being thrown and with a gratifyingly large splash, hit the water.

Cid pumped his right hand into the air and shouted in triumph, "Now that's my girl!"

A voice downstairs snapped him back to reality, "They're on the roof!"

Another ordered, "Quickly, get up there men!"

"Oh shit," Ruud cursed, "they heard you!"

Cid tried to reassure Ruud, "Don't worry, Natalie will—"

Natalie was beginning to fly right by them, seemingly oblivious to their plight, almost as if she were fixated on something.

Cid shouted, "Hey, Natalie, Natalie, help us!"

It was too late, for a soldier was already grasping at the roof's edge. Ruud rushed over and with a kick to the man's face. He fell screaming to the streets below, but many more, too many to stop, were climbing out windows on all sides now. Cid knew it was just a matter of time before they were overwhelmed, but he wasn't going out without a fight.

Cid and Ruud knocked off a couple more soldiers before a quartet of them had their feet solidly planted upon the roof.

"Now you're going to get the same deaths you gave three of our men," one soldier snarled.

He drew his blade and Cid backpedaled uselessly; he, like Ruud, was unarmed. They would either be pushed to their deaths, fall to them, or stand uselessly and be hacked to pieces.

One soldier approached them with pure Schadenfreude apparent in his wicked smile, "Who wants to die first?"

Cid and Ruud stepped back a bit further, but they were only feet from the ledge. Cid had only felt such fear back when Agatha the Awakened was tearing Rabona to shreds and had nearly killed him when he tried to stop her.

One of the soldiers pointed back and towards the sky, "Look out!"

All six soldiers now on the roof ducked for cover as Natalie swooped down and just barely managed to land just short of Cid. It was impressive but also concerning to see how hard it had been for Natalie to land. The cowering soldiers for their part hid their eyes and seemed to be expecting their deaths.

"I thought you weren't going to save us," Cid gasped, "you had me so worried dear."

"I didn't know you were in trouble," Natalie said rather sheepishly for a girl whose giant wings and entrance had reduced six grown men to literally cowering at her feet.

Cid asked, "Did you hear me yelling for you?"

"No, I heard the guy screaming as he fell to his death," Natalie admitted, "Please hurry, I'll hold you both and set you down somewhere safe."

Cid looked dubiously at her new-grown wings, "Natalie, are you sure you can do it?"

"Absolutely," Natalie reassured him.

A few moments later Cid found himself gripped tight by Natalie's left arm, and Ruud was similarly gripped tight by her right arm. With an almighty heave of her wings she raced down the length of the apartment building's roof, building up takeoff speed.

"Dad, don't look at my face," Natalie said as she made a massive, vein-popping exertion carrying him and Ruud up to takeoff speed.

Cid knew why she didn't want him to see her like this; claymores became more hideous as they pushed their bodies harder. With a final, terrifying lurch, Natalie lifted off the group, panting hard as she beat her wings. They were rising slowly, but Natalie was heading straight above the blazing inferno of the Lord Mayor's Residence. Cid could feel the heat well before they were even close.

Cid tried to shout into the silencing wind, "Natalie, look out for the—"

The heat was suddenly much more intense, but a surprising thing was that suddenly Natalie found lifting them higher much easier. Riding a giant updraft of hot air, Natalie managed to quickly and effortlessly gain height. She turned and banked left as they continued to rise. Cid saw a square platform atop the center of the cathedral's immense, steep-sloped roof far below. Natalie descended as best she could, and half a minute later he and Ruud were kissing the sweet feel of brick beneath them.

A moment later a rustle of wings and air alerted Cid to Natalie's departure.

Cid shouted as she dove to gain speed, "Natalie wait, where are you going?"

* * *

"Sire, we've lost contact with our troops in the old square," a Royal Guard said to King Philippe while holding a torch, "shall I send reinforcements to investigate?"

He was looking away from the battle at the moment, off west towards where his wife's carriage had left the western edge of the citadel.

The Guard asked again, "Sire?"

"No, it has to be where the warrior Miata attacked," Philippe reasoned. "Secure the bridges, and with any luck the old town burning down will happen before their counterattack."

The well-armored Royal Guardsman bowed, "Yes, Sire."

Philippe was standing just yards from the eastern gatehouse of Rabona's grand new citadel. He hadn't felt comfortable directing the fight from the palace, and now that his wife had left to someplace safer he felt even less so. Through the gatehouse door he could see the burning silhouette of the old part of Rabona.

A shout rang out, "Claymore!"

A warrior with very long hair had somehow bypassed his other troops and was walking towards his men under the gatehouse. It looked like Marcella had come back.

Philippe walked forward through his men, "What in the world are you doing back? I ordered you to—"

He stopped short of the front lines as he got a better look.

Philippe warned, "It's Miata!"

The men scarcely had time to react before Miata charged. Philippe scrambled back just as she slashed into the front ranks of the Royal Guard. Philippe looked back to see his men rushing away from Miata. At her feet were five men, some chopped in half and others decapitated. A single man was lucky enough to have only had his arm chopped off below the elbow. He was frantically trying to staunch the bleeding when Miata walked over and killed him with a thrust through the chest.

Philippe choked back his shock to shout, "He was unarmed!"

Miata withdrew her sword as the man expired, "He was losing too much blood to live. I gave him mercy."

Her reasoning was both macabre and twisted.

"Royal Guards, form up," Philippe shouted, "and protect your king!"

Pikes were drawn into a wall, and behind them a line of crossbowmen took aim.

"It's not going to work," Miata said, "just let me take out the king and you will live."

"Ignore her boys, she's bluffing," Philippe countered.

The crossbowmen at his hand signal let loose with a volley over forty strong. Miata deflected about half the bolts, another quarter missed her, but the rest stuck into her limbs. This seemed not to bother Miata in the slightest.

"Fine, if you want to die," Miata sniffed, sounding amused, "I'll oblige you."

With that she charged forward at an incredible speed.

* * *

Natalie heard her father shout something behind her as she went into a low dive to gain speed. She didn't have time to explain that mom was in danger. As it was she was already anguishing over whether saving him had cost her someone even more precious. Even though she was airborne and fast, the claymores closing in on her mother's location from the south and west weren't slow in comparison.

She could see the traitorous claymores closing in on her mother's location in the moonlight, all running alongside the riverbank towards the collapsed remains of Rabona's old citadel. Natalie descended as fast as she could and her heart jumped when she spotted her mother desperately trying to heal and stand.

"Hold on mom, I'm coming," Natalie shouted.

Natalie saw her mother staggering to her feet. She kept up her shallow dive, at one point nearly clipping a chimney. As she came down five claymores emerged from a nearby street running hell for leather straight for her mother. It was a race to save her mother's life, and Natalie put on what little speed she could as she carefully descended. Had she been running, outracing anyone other than her mother would not have been a problem. But learning how to fly? That was proving to have its share of difficulties.

"Mom, run towards the river," Natalie shouted.

Miria belatedly noticed her approach and tried to lessen the difference in speed between them, but only managed a hobbled walk towards the water a couple blocks away. Natalie held out her arms and Miria managed a little jump. It was an awkward catch, and Natalie only just managed to absorb the shock of impact and added weight. She beat her wings hard, and finally found a better grip on her mother by gripping tight under Miria's large bosom.

"Agh!"

Natalie cried out, and noticed she'd been shot by arrows in both wings and her left leg, judging by the pinpricks of pain. Try as she could Natalie couldn't beat her wings, and the ground came up to meet her and Miria.

The impact was jarring, disorienting, and quite painful. When Natalie finally stopped, she found her mother still in her arms, but with tears of pain coursing down her cheeks.

Natalie scrambled up, "Mom?"

Miria moaned, "My legs."

"Just hold on," Natalie said, and she got up drawing her blade.

As she turned around her quick reactions saved her, for she just managed to half-dodge, half-deflect an arrow aimed straight for her head. Natalie suddenly found herself against ten younger claymores with her back to her injured mother and the Toulouse River shoreline. She staggered under the weight of her injured wings, which were pricked full of arrows and bleeding. Try as she could, her yoma energy was too high to easily get rid of her wings now. This was a problem, for her wings acted like big, awkwardly placed weights extended out, severely hampering her mobility and ability to fight.

Natalie beat back an early attack by several warriors, clearly outclassing them in swordsmanship, which was a first for her. The group's leader instead changed tack, facing off with Natalie alongside a white-haired peer and letting the rest of the group switch to their bows. They were going to hold her off while their peers shot her full of arrows.

Natalie went on the attack, but it was all useless. Despite folding in her wings, they were so large she was repeatedly struck just running towards her enemies. Then one of the young warriors shifted her aim towards Miria. Natalie had no choice but to jump in the way, with the result being an arrow into her side.

The white-haired warrior said coldly as she approached Natalie, "She's mine."

She held up her blade for the killing blow, and Natalie just barely managed to deflect it to her side. The next moment the white-haired warrior was knocked senseless by the down-stroke of a large claymore blade.

Tabitha stepped before Natalie, dripping wet, holding her blade out towards the warrior who seemed to be in command.

Tabitha yelled, "Stop this, what has Miria and her daughter ever done to you?"

The warrior seemed amused, "What, you don't remember me? I was there when your blessed Phantom Miria took away the only home I had. I'm here to return the favor."

Tabitha gasped, "Marcella?"

Marcella sneered, "So the 'great' Tabitha remembers me at last. I've been training for this day for three years, and unlike last time, you have neither the skill nor the comrades around to defeat me. I'll be sure to let you linger so I can enjoy their death even longer."

Natalie was wide-eyed; here was a claymore like Raftela, a warrior who ignored all morality and had stayed rigidly loyal to the late Organization. Only, she must have been forced to flee to the mainland. Natalie noticed there was also something oddly familiar about Marcella.

With talking of no use, Tabitha didn't wait for the archer-warriors to reload, but instead immediately stepped over her unconscious white-haired foe and attacked with a fierce downward swing. Her foe blocked the blow with ease.

One girl sneered at Tabitha as she locked blades, "You can't beat Marcella with that."

Tabitha responded by trying to angle the hilt of her sword straight into Marcella's throat. Marcella fell back, unscratched, but a little unnerved by the slightly larger and much more experienced Tabitha. Tabitha didn't wait for her to recover, but lashed out with a horizontal swing. This the young Marcella blocked by holding her blade vertical, then knocked Tabitha's blade to the side with ease. Natalie saw the counter coming immediately.

Natalie shouted, "Tabitha, look out!"

Marcella made a surprising stab straight for Tabitha's neck, but thanks to Tabitha's reflexes, it caught only the throat. Natalie's would-be savior jumped back, gasping as blood trickled down her throat. Luckily, such wounds weren't lethal for claymores, as they could heal them quickly. Already Natalie could see the bleeding ending and Tabitha's neck begin to scab.

Tabitha was soon beleaguered by her fast, talented foe, for Marcella was proving to be uniquely gifted in swordsmanship. Tabitha blocked a series of stabs, then slammed a vicious diagonal swing down upon Marcella's blade. Marcella blocked it with ease and then jumped over Tabitha, slashing downwards as she flew by overhead. Tabitha desperately dodged the blade intended for her head, turned to face her foe, and adopted a combat ready stance, clearly beginning to pant a little.

Marcella kept up the offensive, and Natalie began to worry, despite the other warriors merely watching Marcella and not helping. Natalie eyed her blade nearby and reached for it, but a pair of young claymores slammed their feet down upon her arm first.

"Oww," Natalie cried out in pain.

Natalie could only look on in futility, much like her dazed mother, who was too injured to fight. Tabitha rained down a series of blows upon Marcella, with one down-swing after another testing the warrior's strength. Marcella back-flipped away and Tabitha jumped after her, bringing her blade hard once more down upon Marcella's.

Natalie saw Marcella grin and felt an unknown fear.

Marcella sneered, "I've seen that move six times now. Let's try something else!"

Marcella pushed Tabitha's blade up with a well-weighted blow, and suddenly Tabitha was wide open to a counter. Natalie could only watch in helpless anguish as Marcella finished with a brutal horizontal slash into Tabitha's stomach. Blood and even some flesh went flying in a gruesome spray to both sides.

From behind Natalie came Miria's long, anguished scream, "NO!"

Tabitha slumped, clutching at her stomach, which Natalie couldn't see from behind, and then fell face-first onto the ground. Marcella kicked her once just to be sure, but Tabitha was barely breathing; the blow had been well-struck.

Natalie couldn't even scream, but tears were streaming down her face.

"That one isn't getting up anytime soon, or ever," Marcella noted in her sinister, almost womanly voice, "get the winged one up. I want her mother to see this before we kill her."

Natalie found herself hoisted up by two young silver-eyed girls, neither of whom looked a day older than twelve. Four others had pinned down Miria, but only after she'd given two of them a bloody nose. Natalie managed a small sigh; even injured as she was her mother wasn't prepared to go down without a fight.

One of the warriors holding Natalie asked, "Captain Van Dam, what about Jewel?"

Marcella nudged the white-haired warrior Tabitha had knocked out, "We don't have time to bother, not if my sister gets orders to go after us. We'll drag her out of here once we're finished. First however, we're going to show our 'friend' Miria what happens when you get in the way of the rightful king and queen."

Marcella held her blade straight towards Natalie's throat, reveling in Schadenfreude as Miria squirmed as best her injuries allowed her.

Marcella taunted, "You get to watch her die, isn't that fun, eh Miria? Don't worry; you'll be reunited soon enough."

Natalie heard something moving through the air, as did Marcella, for she spun around. Spinning straight for Marcella's head was a large claymore sword, which the young warrior barely managed to deflect in time. It slammed into the ground a foot away from the head of the unconscious warrior, Jewel.

A trio of armored warriors was running straight for Marcella's group. They wore cuirasses, red-crested, open-faced helmets, long gauntlets, knee-length greaves, tassets that protected their outer sides of their upper legs, and wore what looked to be black leather under it all. Marcella rushed at the lead warrior and made a low slash at their lower legs.

Natalie screamed, "Look out!"

The blade ricocheted off the warrior's greaves in a shower of sparks, leaving Natalie stunned. She had never seen such a thing; he was wearing armor capable of stopping the swords.

Marcella didn't have time to think much about this, for the warrior turned his halberd upon her, and with its long reach forced her and three comrades back. Marcella found her counterattacks expertly shunted to the side, and was nearly decapitated when he countered with the axe end of the halberd. This she barely dodged with a jump back, and two of her comrades yelled out, their sword arms already sliced off.

Two of Marcella's comrades were out of the fight already, and it had scarcely begun. Marcella's young warriors had dropped back, well away now from Natalie, around whom the armored warriors had formed up, weapons at the ready.

Marcella laughed, "Ho, ho, ho, looks like we're having an old reunion. I sign up for a Grand Alliance jaunt back to this island and I meet two of the Silver Guards who failed to kill me last time. It's been a little while since I've had the displeasure of seeing your traitorous faces. You know, you never did tell me how much they paid you to betray High Command."

"Former Silver Guards don't chitchat little girl," the armored soldier countered.

His voice sounded exactly like Andrei Tuluzy's, which was confusing because the whole reason why Natalie and her comrades had come back to Rabona was because of fears the Romanow Empire might be taking over. Yet here he was fighting to save her life and Miria's.

"So noble of you to come and try to save dear Miria's life," Marcella laughed.

"We're here to put an end to you; traitor," Andrei shot back, "saving Miria is a bonus."

"I'll give the rest of you a choice," Audrey said, speaking up to Andrei's right, "you can attack us here on Marcella's orders and die, or you flee for your lives and maybe we'll spare you. Don't be fools, we're wearing duratium plate; you'd be cut to pieces. "

Marcella's comrades were fleeing already, and realizing she was suddenly alone, Marcella wisely back-stepped towards the river, holding her sword out towards Andrei and Josef the whole time.

The two male warriors were advancing on either side of Marcella, clearly angling for the opening that would enable them to land the killing blow.

Marcella laughed, "You think you can kill me on the second try, eh Andrei? I'm the last protégé of Victoria McKenzie; there's nothing you can do I haven't seen."

Josef Lazarov countered, "As I seem to recall, it was you, not us, that lost the last fight, or do you find exile under the Grand Alliance's service fitting?"

"They offered me a chance at revenge under the queen's command, so I came," Marcella grinned, "and I'm still so young the queen thinks I'm one of her neophytes. The other warriors never stood a chance against someone like Tabitha; Jewel was a fool to chance it."

"You're not leaving this city alive," Andrei hissed.

"Oh I think I will, and girl," Marcella snapped, looking at Natalie, "tell my sister I'll be back for her traitorous head."

With that Marcella jumped backwards in an astoundingly large flip, landed, and rushed off at an incredible speed Natalie had only seen her mother match. Andrei and Josef rushed off after Marcella at an almost equally great speed.

Andrei and Josef soon disappeared from Natalie's view.

"Oh dear," Audrey murmured as she turned grievously wounded Tabitha over.

Natalie limped over to her mother, who was pulling herself on her belly towards Tabitha with only her arms. Natalie saw that both legs were badly broken, something that could be eventually fixed, but would take her mother quite some time to heal. Natalie helped carry her mother to Tabitha's side, whereupon the two clutched hands. Natalie clutched Tabitha's other hand, trying hard not to stare at the horrible, bloody gash across the stomach, which Audrey was examining and trying to heal as best she could.

"I'm sorry, my captain," Tabitha gasped, trying to hold back the blood in her mouth.

Miria cried, "Don't be, you did well. You saved us from dying."

Natalie quietly asked Audrey, who had finished examining Tabitha's wounds, "Is she going to make it?"

"The blade cut open the intestines, a kidney, the pancreas and the liver," Audrey replied.

"But is she going to—"

Audrey merely shook her head and mouthed the words 'lethal wound'.

Natalie tried to hold back the tears, but it was useless. Tabitha had always been a dear aunt to her, and had always treated her with the utmost respect, especially once Miria had adopted her. It was too much to bear to see such a good person dying before her.

"Miria, promise me you'll be the one to lead Rabona to a better future," Tabitha quietly said. "Promise me some day…"

Tabitha was fading fast, her voice so quiet Natalie could barely hear her as Miria clutched Tabitha's hand ever tighter.

"Promise me you'll be queen someday," Tabitha whispered so low Natalie barely heard.

Miria breathed in deeply, "Tabitha, I…"

Natalie glanced back to see Tabitha's eyes stop moving.

Miria sobbed as she cradled Tabitha in her arms.

"It should have been me," Miria cried, "It should have been me."

Natalie glanced up when she heard quiet sobbing around her; the other claymores had silently arrived and formed a half-circle around them. Anastasia was blinking back tears, and then had to look away.

Natalie was surprised to see several claymores missing, "Where are Renée and Helen?"

Tall Matilda managed through a grimace, "Out west with others checking on Miata."

* * *

Renée jumped over the pile of bodies under the citadel gatehouse and landed with a jolt.

"Ow," Helen whimpered, "would you be careful?"

"Sorry," Renée replied, "Oh dear God, would you look at that."

Helen complained, "Look at what? Turn me around Renée ; I can't see anything looking backwards!"

Helen had had her arms and legs trussed up almost like pretzels, as they had yet to shrink to their pre-stretched length. Renée had solved the problem of taking Helen with them by tying her limbs up in knots and lugging her over the shoulder. If the situation wasn't so serious she might have laughed; Helen looked like a giant human pretzel at the moment the way her limbs were tied together.

"You'll see enough to last you a lifetime once I begin walking through it," Renée countered. "It looks like a complete massacre."

Renée stepped gingerly over the dismembered, maimed, bloody, gory remains of what was once the Angevin Royal Guard. Her boots left imprints in the pools of dried blood, and a moment later Renée heard Helen gasp. She couldn't blame Helen; the carnage was truly shocking in its graphic nature. Just twenty yards ahead, wiping the blood off her sword, was Miata, who was covered in specks of dried blood.

"Here comes Galk, Valencia, Clarice and a whole bunch of our boys," Helen shouted.

Renée turned to find Galk leading forward hundreds of men, each gingerly avoiding the mess of corpses and body parts as they picked their way forward through the bloodbath.

Miata saluted as Renée , Galk, Valencia and Clarice walked up to her together, "I slaughtered the entire Royal Guard as ordered."

Clarice gasped at her fiancée, Galk, "You ordered her to do this?"

"I only told her to take down the king and capture the queen," Galk said, trying to mollify his shocked bride-to-be. "What happened to the king?"

Miata wiped some blood out of her eye and pointed to a decapitated man in unusually fine robes a few yards away.

"Oh," Galk managed, "and the queen?"

"I couldn't find her," Miata admitted.

"So she fled," Renée surmised, looking around at the carnage, "I don't blame her. Let's worry about securing Rabona completely before we go on a blind chase after the queen."

Galk disagreed, "No, we must capture her now. We let Queen Violetta off this island and I can guarantee you she'll be enlisting foreign backers to put her child on the throne within the year. Miata, you will take command of the Elite Guard and find her, capture her, and bring her back here for trial."

Miata ran off as Clarice looked apprehensively after her daughter.

"Don't worry dear, there's nothing wrong with her," Galk reassured, patting Clarice on the shoulder, "she was just doing her duty."

Renée hoisted Helen up to watch over her shoulder as Galk ran off with his men, Clarice walked with him, and Miata and Valencia ran west. This left them in the midst of the carnage.

Helen quipped, "Looks like my days of calling Miata 'little shit' are over. Good Lord, this place is just appalling. I think she's due for a new nickname after this, don't you, Renée ?"

Renée sighed, "How about Blood-eye Miata?"

* * *

Raki was immensely relieved when he saw the citadel gatehouse around the corner. The reason, or rather one of the reasons, was busily pulling on his hair rather hard.

"Teresa, stop that," Raki snapped.

"Ohh," was little Teresa's disappointed sigh.

"You can play with Papa's hair later, but not right now," Raki reassured.

It had been a month since the attempted coup, and already Rabona was beginning to recover, rebuilding its old core at a feverish pace. He had been drugged unconscious for several days, and when he finally awoke alongside Claire and Galatea in the Teresian Cathedral, he found a vastly different Rabona.

A glimpse outside the cathedral doors found people demolishing the burnt-out remains of the Lord Mayor's Residence across the street. In fact the entire square including both embassies and Miria's diamond store were burnt to a crisp. The remains of the store itself astonishingly enough had not been looted; something that left Claire muttering incomprehensibly.

The news had been both good and ill; the city had been turned into a war zone once it was apparent the Royals had secretly aligned themselves with the Grand Alliance. Of course Raki, Claire and Galatea hadn't been awake for any of this, as they had been drugged and nearly killed by Grand Alliance agents. Their savior was a strange, young foreign man named Alexander.

"I want Alexander," Victor said, hugging Raki's leg with nervous insistence.

"He can't come," Raki told the boy, who was beginning to resemble Claire more and more by the day, "and your mama is at aunt Tabi's funeral."

Victor looked rather disappointedly up at him, and Raki knew why; his son was almost as attached to Alexander as his mother. Alexander was at the moment busily getting language training to help him adjust. When Raki had first tried to communicate with Alexander, it'd been a disaster between the twins' insistent nagging and Alexander's poor Toulousaine. His skills in the language had however been improving remarkably since.

"Monsieur Lautrec," a male voice interrupted, jolting Raki back to reality.

Raki was a few yards away from the gatehouse, which now had a functioning iron gate, before which a number of Council Guardsmen were standing. Their captain was looking at him expectantly.

The captain said, "The acting Lord Mayor is expecting you."

"Yes, I know," Raki nodded, trying to hold Teresa as she excitedly bounced up and down on his shoulders and Victor sheepishly hid behind his legs.

The middle-aged captain shouted, "Open her up!"

The iron gate began clinking its way up, and after a few moments Raki and the nagging twins were through. He was now in the immense new citadel, which only a month before Helen had said was the site of a bloodbath. The cobblestones looked clean enough though.

Raki tried walking as fast as he could and arrived at the front of the immense granite palace that had been royal residence. It was easily five times the size of the old Lord Mayor's Residence and had a grand central hall, large towers in each corner, thick walls connecting them, and as Raki knew, the grounds contained gardens on either side of the central hall.

A quartet of Council Guardsmen saluted promptly as he approached, which he returned. Victor however immediately glomped onto his right leg as soon as he saw their halberds and wouldn't let go.

"It's okay, they're not going to hurt you, they're not with the bad man in black," Raki said, referring to Rubel.

Victor didn't look very assured, but let go, instead holding onto a loose bit of his papa's white trousers as they walked in. The plush blue carpeting looked new as Raki walked into a grand but unfinished central hall. Eventually Raki arrived at a grand meeting room at its far end, outside which a pair of guards was chatting with Clarice, who was donned in noblewoman's garb. She noticed him out of the corner of her eye.

"Thank goodness, you're here," Clarice sighed, "I can take care of the twins."

"That's very kind," Raki said, "go on, have fun playing with your auntie Clarice."

Victor looked dubiously up at the young brunette claymore. In contrast, his curly-haired twin sister had no reservations as Raki dropped her to the ground. Teresa jumped, green dress and all, straight into Clarice's outstretched arms, knocking her onto her rump.

"Uphh," Clarice gasped in surprise.

Raki lectured, "Teresa, what did Mama tell you about jumping onto people?"

The little girl managed a not very convincing show of regret, and then promptly tugged her twin brother forward. A moment later both were happily on their way to playing with Clarice. Teresa, like always, was trying to get picked up.

Clarice cheerily rushed off saying, "Come on, let's play in the gardens."

Ruud van Willems' voice interrupted, "Are you just going to stand there, man?"

Raki found the well-groomed, hawk-nosed Willems in a fine blue and white outfit, complete with puffy sleeves and decorative, rich stripes of contrasting color. With Ruud was another man with dark brown hair who was considerably shorter but had an intense look to him.

"Lord Mayor," Raki bowed, "you summoned me?"

"Just Acting Lord Mayor, Raki," Ruud smiled, "my friend here is Lord Raul Tierra."

"So you were Nadia's husband," Raki remarked, shaking his hand.

"Yes," Raul grimaced, nodding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you relive what happened," Raki apologized.

Raul's late wife had been a claymore of some beauty, famed for her unmatched curves and gorgeous hair. She had however been on the wrong side of history, being killed when Father Mazarin used a new weapon, gunpowder grenades, to literally go out with a bang.

Raki couldn't help asking, "How's the diamond mine doing, by the way?"

"Very well," Raul said, keeping details short.

It was not really surprising that Raul didn't say more; the diamond mine was a sensitive topic even for Miria and Cid. It had all started when Raul's wife had found a few gems in the mountains outside Pieta after the Organization fell. Nadia didn't have a lot of cash, so when Miria became the top officer in Rabona's military, she asked her for a loan to get a hobby mine started. It had taken Helen, Renée , the late Virginia and Nina adding their funds, but finally Miria had given her financial backing.

To say much was expected of the project was an overstatement; Miria had been rather dubious when Raki first asked her about it. That was before the miners discovered a mother lode of diamonds the likes no one had ever seen. Its discovery had transformed Miria into the wealthiest person in the island's history, and made the claymores who invested early incredibly wealthy, all of which made them political threats to Lord Mayor Zaehringen, who had been the wealthiest merchant and thus Lord Mayor until that time. The rest was history.

Raki noticed a rosebud on Raul's black vest, "Are you thinking about remarrying yet?"

Raul grinned but remained tight-lipped. Even if Raul wouldn't say anything, Raki knew women had to be hounding him night and day. He was a recently widowed man of immense wealth, and now, having joined the Council of Lords, was one of the country's leading politicians. He was quite simply the most eligible bachelor on the market.

"Gentlemen, we have more important matters to discuss," Ruud admonished them.

"Apologies," Raki sighed.

Van Willems led them back to a large, circular table, upon which a hugely detailed map of the island was spread.

"News reached us today that Major General Galk has taken the last Angevin stronghold of Gonal and ended all resistance in the western lands. However, it was not all good news," Ruud sighed, "Queen Violetta was not there."

Raki frowned, "How?"

"Apparently she slipped out with a small fleet of armed merchantmen and went into exile," Raul interjected. "We don't have a navy, so there was no stopping her."

Raki asked, "You want my opinion on what to do now? Why not ask General Malaga? I'm sure Countess Miria would be able to think of more than me."

"We did," Ruud corrected, "and while valuable, she thinks like a general of men on land. I need more than one person's advice; we're a small island in the middle of an ocean and we have no navy. Who's to say Queen Violetta won't be back in a month at the head of a foreign fleet to place her back on the throne? We wouldn't even be able to stop them landing, and now foreign merchants are telling me we supply half the world's diamonds. We're an enormous prize just waiting to be picked."

Raul asked, "What of the Grand Alliance?"

"They at least won't be a concern for now," Ruud sighed, "they reportedly lost a major battle to the Romanow Empire and might even be forced to sue for peace."

"Then that's good news," Raki said, smiling.

"Not necessarily," Ruud replied, sighing, "if the Grand Alliance is severely weakened, there'd be little to stop our Romanow friends from thinking twice about turning on us."

* * *

Claire was trying her best to be patient, listening to the seemingly endless eulogy of the warrior Virginia by her curly-haired cousin, Camilla. She had entered the Teresian Cathedral awhile ago to attend the formal ceremonial last rites for the two warriors who had died during the coup, Virginia and Miria's devoted follower, Tabitha. Only Camilla had stretched the eulogy on so long everyone was trying hard to stifle disrespectful yawns in the pews.

Claire was more than a little surprised to hear, "I would like to say that although she has been taken from us, I believe Virginia is now in a better place. Thank you all for coming."

Galatea stepped forward in her white Bishop's robes, politely clapping, "That was very moving Lieutenant Camilla, thank you."

Normally Claire would be thinking about ways to avenge Galatea's past transgressions, or how much fun she'd had shaving the zealot's head. But now, with Galatea standing before the open caskets of white-haired Virginia and petite Tabitha, she could feel no anger. Claire's own narrow escape from death at Rubel's hands was all too strong a reminder it could have been her and Raki in the caskets instead. It was at least somewhat reassuring to see the unique bodies of claymores did not compose, even a month after dying. Realizing she was becoming fixated on mortality, Claire bit her tongue to think about the pain instead.

Galatea walked up regally to the altar, "Next we have the eulogy for Captain Tabitha, to be delivered by Countess Miria Victoire Beauharnais de Malaga. There will be a ten minute recess before she will speak."

Claire stifled a groan; Miria, true to self-centered nature, had insisted on Galatea reading out her full title. It reflected nothing less than a warrior wallowing in her self-importance.

Claire got up along with a whole row of her comrades, everyone from misty-eyed Helen to speechless Matilda, and together they filed out of the pew. Claire put an arm over Helen's shoulder as they walked out of the grand wrought iron doors of the cathedral. Claire had to blink in the ample sunlight enveloping them both outside.

Helen sat down, despondent, "I can't believe it. How could a nobody take down Tabitha? How could we lose Tabitha to some no-name 13-year old neophyte?"

Miata, who'd come out and was sitting on the steps to their right, was looking increasingly uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

"We should've shot over Renée ," Helen complained, "God I wish Tabi was still with us. She deserved a better end than losing to this cursed neophyte Marcella van Dam."

"She's not a neophyte," Miata interrupted.

Claire spoke up before Helen said something inflammatory, "Why do you say that?"

"Marcella van Dam is my twin sister," Miata finished gloomily, a look of horrible guilt etched across her features.

The shock was complete and total, with everyone in earshot looking over at Miata wide-eyed and with expressions of disbelief.

"Marcella and I were hybridized by the Organization when we were six," Miata admitted. "I had trouble adjusting, but Marcella didn't. When we were nine we were sent out on a Yoma training hunt. We forgot that the men in black were supposed to take the money. Marcella was upset they didn't have enough money yet and tried to beat it out of the village chief and I tried to stop her. Our handlers stopped us and broke us apart from that day on. I couldn't deal with it, so they pulled me off duty and then had Clarice raise me."

Claire had heard about Miata's oral fixation from Clarice years previously. It had seemed at the time that Miata had simply never grown up. It had never occurred to her it might have been Miata's way of coping with the way she left the last member of her family. It all made sense now, the bizarre infantile-like behavior, the intense desire of Miata to have Clarice as her mother, the overwhelming eagerness to please. It had been a cry for help.

"Oh," was all Helen managed in contrast.

Claire queried Miata, "Why didn't you tell us about Marcella a month ago, right after the battle when Natalie told you about her?"

Miata replied with a bit of defensiveness in her voice, "If you had a sister that killed everyone's best friend, would you want to tell people you're related?"

Claire spoke up, "Miata, do you know how strong your sister is?"

"Our handlers used to brag to people that we each had the potential to surpass Alicia and Beth," Miata sighed. "Tabitha didn't know what she was up against."

Matilda inquired quietly, "Why wasn't she in the Organization's formal ranks?"

Miata confessed, "Marcella accidentally killed the village chief, which Mr. Rado covered up. I thought she was dead until Ermita told me that after Rafaela disappeared, Marcella became the Organization's secret executioner of deserters and rebels. I looked for her, but she had already left for the mainland."

"By the Gods," Valencia cursed, "a potential No. 1 under the command of Violetta."

A bell tolled far above, drawing eyes skyward.

"We need to go back," Matilda sighed.

Everyone walked up the steps but Claire paused to surreptitiously grab Miata by the shoulder and quietly asked, "Why didn't you stop Marcella?"

"I didn't notice her yoki until it was too late," Miata said edgily, her yoki radiating unease, "and by then she was already running away."

Miata walked off quickly, clearly disconcerted and eager to be anywhere else. Her yoki radiated fear, and when Claire examined it more carefully, quite a bit of shame. Claire shook her head and sighed; Miata wasn't telling the whole truth. Her intuition was that Miata could have intervened at some point, but was held back by something: an unusual amount of fear.

"So I was right," Claire muttered to no one, "you're scared of your sister."

It was something she hadn't expected of Miata. But perhaps there were good reasons why Marcella became Rafaela's successor as Organization executioner and Miata, an emotional wreck but still a prodigy, had been given over to the care of low-ranked Clarice.

Claire followed her silver-eyed comrades back in for Tabitha's eulogy and wake. Claire settled into her pew, supporting disconsolate Helen's head resting on her shoulder. Claire's resolve not to dissolve into tears was already failing as several priests brought Tabitha's open casket forward. In it Tabitha lay, her hands clasped together as if praying, peaceful and beautiful as ever in her old post-Pieta outfit.

It was enough to make nearly everyone teary-eyed. Claire watched as Miria, dressed in a fine black silk mourning dress, got up from her pew a row in front of her. Miria passed by Miata, whose similar dress' sole decoration was a red rosebud, and walked out into the aisle.

Galatea left the altar saying, "Countess Miria, you may speak."

Claire sighed; it was hard to recognize her old friend 'Phantom Miria' when even Helen called her 'Countess Miria'. Miria quickly reached the altar and opened her prepared speech.

Miria began solemnly reading, blinking back tears, "It was just over ten years ago when I first met a young warrior named Tabitha. We were on a mission together, and I was both her mission and squad commander. When I told her we'd been sent on a suicide mission, she said she didn't care, just so long as we were saving lives, because that was just her nature."

Claire felt her eyes moistening despite her best efforts.

"Only seven of us survived that mission in Pieta," Miria said, wiping away tears, "and Tabitha became the best friend and devoted follower a captain could want. I have always felt that I didn't deserve her unconditional love and devotion as a friend, but the one thing I always forgot was the purity of Tabitha's soul. I could tell Tabitha almost any of my troubles, and I could always count on her to keep it secret and give me good advice. She was everything you could want in a friend and companion."

Claire had to wipe away a couple of tears as she continued listening.

Miria continued after wiping her own tears away, "She wasn't just good to me; she cared sincerely about all her comrades. She was kind, she was beautiful, and most of all, she was the best person we knew. It was Tabitha that pushed us towards the war on the Organization, because she wanted a better future for the island's people. Tabitha may have lost her life still fighting for that better future, but it was not in vain. Thanks to Tabitha, we can still give the people that better future, and I swear I shall not rest until she sees her dream fulfilled. Thank you, and may the angels bless dear Tabi, the best friend I have ever known."

Claire and everyone else gave Miria a tearful but heartfelt standing ovation of clapping.


	18. Chapter 17: Katarzyna Romanowa

**Chapter 17: Katarzyna Romanowa**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A Complete History"**

**By C. Havel**

**There are fewer disservices to readers of history worse than historians speaking of a slayer's "power". The only part of this "power" that might be empirically measured is the warrior's innate Yoma energy. But as Katarzyna Romanowa once remarked, "If a warrior's 'power' was all that mattered, I ought to have been dead several times over." She was right; a warrior also needed good reflexes, swordsmanship, acrobatics, endurance, knowledge of tactics, intelligence, fighting style, and that of their opponent all mattered.**

**The original slayers were considered "weak in power", and were first used a century before the Organization's fall. They might have been effective, but at the time the Alliance of Nations suffered from incompetent leadership. The experiment died out on all but Toulouse, where they were used for research. Twenty-seven years before the Organization fell; two dozen of the Alliance's errant Awakened attacked Danzig Bay. The Alliance's army commanders were incensed, and even more so when informed that the only solution was to unleash yet more Awakened upon those eating the townspeople.**

**Pushed by the self-inflicted massacre, the Allied Army began a new Slayer Program under their command. It began its service twenty-five years before the Organization's fall, and its first graduating warrior was the famous Katarzyna Yushchenka. Special Operations Command, which ran the Organization, shared mutual loathing and rivalry with the Army, the result being the new program started with little help. Despite this it grew tremendously, expanding to 120 warriors five years later, then exploding to 2130 warriors ten years after that, and finally to 7005 warriors at the time of the Organization's fall.**

**Army officers were far more pragmatic group than Organization researchers, many noting that Organization "super weapons" never lived up to their hype and had a bad habit of backfiring upon the Army. Army officers pushed well past the original mission of culling errant Awakened, moving slayers into reconnaissance, behind-the-lines raids, fighting domestic dissidents like rebels, revolutionaries, brigands, mercenaries turned bandits, and even acting as a backup force to Awakened on the front lines.**

**When the Army brought slayers into front-line combat against Dragonkin, the resulting deaths of 300 warriors cut the program down to 120 survivors. Special Operations Command perversely and gleefully gloated over this setback, saying it proved silver-eyed soldiers weren't strong enough. Furious, the Army's top officers went back to the drawing boards to come up with solutions. One was the creation of 10-warrior squads with designated commanders, which increased their effectiveness, obedience to authority, and decreased awakening rates. The second solution was a massive expansion of slayers' numbers to even the odds.**

**Special Operations Command's gloating was crushed by High Command's bitter complaints about their progress in creating the perfect weapon. To counter this, the Organization embarked on yet another expensive project, this time focusing on soul-linking identical twin slayers. They also began training slayer intelligence agents, training them to carry out high-risk assassinations, steal important documents, and otherwise undermine the Grand Alliance's series of victories. Field Marshal Poniatowski then infuriated them by authorizing his own special operations department staffed by his Army slayers.**

**It was into this stew of intra-alliance rivalry and global warfare that an astounding bit of news arrived: the Organization had been overthrown by its own warriors on the Isle of Toulouse. Suddenly both the future of the Special Operations Command and the entire alliance was in doubt…**

* * *

Dietrich had been waiting a long time in the dark room waiting. She squirmed from the discomfort of waiting upon the hard wooden chair. She heard footsteps and suddenly everything came into sharp focus. The large pair of doors before her opened just enough to let a stream of soft candle light in from the hallway. Walking in through the doors was a petite woman little taller than Dietrich herself. Dietrich pursed her lips.

"Good evening, Alevtina," Dietrich hissed.

Alevtina practically jumped as she was swinging the doors wider open.

"Dietrich, fricking hell, you scared me! What are you doing in my room?"

Dietrich, wearing a tight navy blue outfit with a skirt, took care to cross her legs before replying, "When I first arrived here in Visegrad I was told I had been expected. I know it was you that tipped them off, Alevtina."

Alevtina's well-proportioned face scrunched up for just a moment, but a moment was all Dietrich required. The long-banged and short-haired claymore gave Dietrich a more polished look of bewilderment.

Alevtina lifted an eyebrow, "And why would I have done such a thing to my cherished friend? You really think I want to humiliate dear Wenceslaus, eh?"

"Because you idolize the very ground the Cesarzowa stands on. You were the only one besides me and Wenceslaus who knew I had left for Visegrad. I know I didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I know Wenceslaus sure didn't. What do you think he's going to say when I tell him it was you—"

"You're a month late; Wenceslaus had it figured out well before you ever did," Alevtina informed her with surprising nonchalance. "Someone at court leaked it to him that the Cesarzowa had been expecting you for some time when you first met. He scarcely needed more proof than that to exclude me from all his councils."

Alevtina closed the doors, moved past Dietrich, and lit a number of candles along the edge of the large room's windows. It was hard not to notice the vibrant red leather riding outfit she wore tight against her body or the lack of concern upon her features.

Dietrich asked with a sigh, "Why did you do it?"

"To prove to the Cesarzowa that she could trust me," Alevtina said, putting a hand through her long bangs. "Don't give me that look; you don't know the half of it."

Dietrich frowned as Alevtina jumped atop the table to light the chandelier's candles, "What else is there to know?"

Alevtina lit them all and spoke as she clambered off the table, "The Cesarzowa seems to have gotten a rather bad impression from the rants of one rather aggravated friend of dear Wenceslaus. She kept telling her boyfriend what an incredible cheapskate he was, leaving her without enough money to pay her way to Visegrad."

It took a moment for Dietrich to realize Alevtina was describing her.

"I was upset," Dietrich huffed as Alevtina gave a look of disapproval.

"And you didn't know half of what Wenceslaus was doing, or else you could forgive my desire to slap you."

The most surprising thing was that was exactly what Alevtina did. The sting was sharp.

Alevtina shouted at her, "He had just spent nearly all he had on building an orphanage and donating to a private university, and you called him a cheapskate! He barely had more than a hundred Imperial Krones on him when you left for Visegrad, and then I find out you call him a cheapskate. He was a good man that you made look bad!"

"Says the Cesarzowa's pet spy," Dietrich shot back.

Alevtina's tone was unapologetic, "If I hadn't given the Imperial Family some inside information about Wenceslaus, his chances at the marriage would be much worse. It's much easier to fear someone you don't know than those with whom you are familiar. The information I gave to the Cesarzowa's family would only be of benefit to Wenceslaus' chances."

Dietrich asked, indignant, "Why is it everyone's so damn obsessed with whom the Cesarzowa will marry? Why can't she be allowed to marry someone she loves?"

"You know full well why, Dietrich. She's leader of what may now be the most powerful state on the planet. Her children will be heirs to it all, and the male slayer that sires those heirs will be able to wield enormous influence as her Cesarzow. There is more power at stake than you can imagine."

Dietrich cynically asked, "So power is all that matters, is it?"

Alevtina glared at her, "Are you so cynical you can't see the dangers of Sergei being a part of that dynasty? Do you suppose all your island comrades were saints, Dietrich? Do you think they didn't want the power to shape the world to fit their ideals? Whoever is her husband will literally be able to shape the world; for good or ill. Surely some of your comrades felt a need to leave the world a better place than they found it."

In her mind's eye Dietrich saw the face of Phantom Miria as Alevtina talked.

Alevtina poured herself a drink and sipped before speaking up, "With the crushing of the alliance loyalists and the foreign invasion, there are only three factions left in this country. There are the moderates, who are a mixture of idealists and pragmatists, led by the empress herself. Wenceslaus and Crown Princess Rima are staunch Humanists. They want to liberate and better the world through things like education and giving the people more liberty."

"Let me guess, Sergei Djugashvili is the leader of the Humanists' rivals," Dietrich interjected.

Alevtina plopped herself down into a chair and put her feet up, "Him and Bastia Romanowa, actually, although it's not a very comfortable alliance."

Dietrich frowned, "Why?"

Alevtina shrugged, "The hardliners are not united. Bastia may have helped the Cesarzowa exterminate the High Command, but Sergei is far more extreme. He sacked some of our cities that rebelled for the alliance loyalists, it's rumored it was on his orders that his men raped women, killed priests within their holy places, plundered, and even took slaves. Of course all of that came to an end when the Cesarzowa declared an end to serfdom and slavery. He could have rebelled against her orders, but you've seen the results of fighting her."

"She would have annihilated any army he threw at her," Dietrich agreed.

Alevtina kept going, "Sergei claims to have changed his ways. I'm not sure anyone buys it, but when you're making Wenceslaus look bad, I can't help but worry."

"The empress would never choose such a terrible man," Dietrich replied, confident.

"Maybe that's true, but if it's not you had best hope the Cesarzowa has herself a good bodyguard. She's already been nearly assassinated once. If Sergei can't win the throne by raw force, there are other ways. Should the Cesarzowa wed him and bear an heir, he would have a path to it. All he'd need was for her to have an 'accident' and declare himself Regent. Then that pro-slavery, masochistic monster would be in charge, and heaven helps us all if it ever comes to be."

Dietrich sighed, "So how do we convince the Cesarzowa Wenceslaus is the right man?"

Alevtina put a hand on her shoulder and looked Dietrich in the eye, "Make no mistake, Wenceslaus' life depends on that marriage. We'll make certain he survives; whatever it takes."

Alevtina left, her last words reminding Dietrich of something she had once heard.

_"I'll survive by doing whatever it takes."_

* * *

Dietrich pushed open a massive window open to a similarly massive palace apartment suite and glanced inside. Its ceiling stretched high into the dark, only faint moonlight lighting the anteroom through four massive room-height windows. Dietrich hopped inside, her padded shoes making for a hushed landing.

It took several moments to find a candle holder, and a few more to light the three candles it still held. The light was enough to make out more details in the room. Overhead, dangling from the two-story high ceiling was a massive gold and platinum chandelier. Along the room's walls were countless bookshelves literally stuffed to capacity. In fact, all over the room were countless drawings, manuscripts, and models of inventions on the tables.

"So this is where she lived with Alexander," Dietrich murmured.

After speaking with Alevtina, Dietrich had been unable to keep one person out of her thoughts. That person was Kasia Romanowa, a veritable genius in her own right and the beloved paramour of at least two men: James Havel and Prince Alexander Comnenus. The thought had struck her that Alexander's old apartment suite was still in the palace, unoccupied and possibly untouched since Kasia and her prince had lived in it.

As Dietrich glanced around, she saw proof everywhere of the veracity of the memories she had experienced when soul-linked to the now Imperial Princess. Alexander's inventions were all here; a corkscrew machine with a hand crank meant to fly, a diving helmet with a long air hose attached, and even what appeared to be a model of a siege engine. As Dietrich browsed the tables, it was clear that Kasia had left her mark as well.

A copy of Sun Tzu's "Art of War" lay upon one table and as Dietrich glanced through its pages, many appeared to have been well-used. A book by a Bretonese author on the new field of calculus lay beside it. As Dietrich glanced through it she glimpsed the ever-familiar ornate handwriting of Kasia in the many notes inserted into the book's pages.

Dietrich looked around, but she could not see the one thing she'd come for: Kasia's old journal. It was the one thing that might finally break the mystery of what had happened to the relationship of Kasia and Alexander and give her some clue as to when Kasia had first met the enigmatic Katarzyna Romanowa.

Dietrich quietly opened the doors to the former couple's living room, a place all too familiar in her memories thanks to soul-linking with Kasia. Yet another grand chandelier dominated the center of this room. Disconcertingly Dietrich noticed at least two of the room-height windows were open, the wind blowing the heavy red drapes attached to them. Dietrich swallowed, her anxiety rising, but a glance around found no one in sight.

Dietrich searched the room, and finally came to Alexander's grand old oak desk, which was topped by shelves and a globe of the world. Atop the desk were a number of notes between the two, many of a rather sappy quality.

Dietrich picked up one and read: _"Dearest Kasia, I told my father of our impending nuptials, and he has agreed to them. With any luck I will be back this week and muster the courage to tell my mother. You mustn't be so impatient. I too yearn to be in thine warm embraces. I think of you each night of my travels with father, and—"_

Dietrich couldn't keep reading; her pulse was quickened too much and her femininity had turned wet from the thoughts stirred up by the note.

"Oh Alexander," Dietrich sighed, clutching the note close.

It took her a moment to realize that she was, not, in fact, the girl in the note.

"Oh hell," Dietrich muttered, "I thought I was beyond this."

After a moment of clutching the note to her head her pulse slowed, although her lust had not disappeared. In Alexander's absence, a part of her desperately wanted to make up for it. Her hands began creeping down towards her waist when at last she summoned the will to stop her subconscious desires.

Dietrich tried to distract herself from her unseemly urge by setting down the note and looking over at the desk once more. There were other mementos of Kasia and Alexander's time together, from small pieces of jewelry to priceless copies of ancient books. The couple appeared to be almost as good of collectors as they were in the arts and sciences.

The gifts present seemed very one-sided, with what seemed like nine out of every ten coming from Alexander to his darling chief bodyguard and paramour Kasia. One of Kasia's gifts was most surprising; it was a stack of engineering papers portraying a covered carriage she had custom-designed just for Alexander. The sketches were dated just a little over three years ago.

Dietrich knocked the papers off the desk by accident.

"Damn it," she cursed in a quiet voice.

It took several moments to gather the papers back up again, at which time Dietrich noticed a small grey book and an even smaller black satin box atop it. They had been lying underneath the sketches, hidden from her sight. Dietrich's breathing still but her pulse quickened as she set down the sketches to the side. With almost delicate care she picked up the black satin box and with baited breath and racing heart opened it.

Inside, perched perfectly, was an engagement ring like no other she had ever seen. The ring itself was pure yellow gold and of good size. Running down the sides were beautiful Bengali red ruby glimmering in the candlelight. It had a fixating quality to its beauty. She was drawn away from it by a creaking sound, but when Dietrich looked there was no one there.

Despite her desire, Dietrich did not put on the ring. Instead, she reluctantly closed the ring box and set it aside. She instead clutched the dusty journal and opened its pages to the candlelight.

The first entry started with a date; a good sign. Dietrich sighed with relief when she saw the entry that followed. This small grey thing was clearly the journal of Kasia's she had desired for so long. Dietrich closed the journal and began examining the rest of the apartment to see if there was anything else she had missed. From her soul-linked memories of Kasia she knew that the enormous master bedroom was just through the pair of doors to the desk's right.

Dietrich entered quietly, although the floor was creaking more this time. Dietrich did not see anything in the darkened room of immediate interest. She turned to glance around, saw some scoring in the doorway, a few papers on a nearby dresser, and then paused.

Her eyes went back to the scoring, and Dietrich bent over to examine it. It was soon apparent that there were no fewer than four slashes, all hastily patched, in the woodwork.

"You seem rather obsessed with my past, Countess Tuluzy," a familiar voice commented.

It took all her effort to not drop her candles in shock as Dietrich swung around. Six paces away, sitting atop the edge of the massive bed, was a chillingly familiar figure. The candles gave off just enough light for Dietrich to see the woman was wearing a long white and gold-trimmed dress. Its ornate quality rather complimented that of its wearer, whose face and voice were only too familiar.

Dietrich struggled to find the words, "Your Imperial Highness, I was just—"

Princess Kasia stood up to her impressive height and gave her a dubious look. It had the effect of stretching the skin of her left cheek where her brand number, 3141, was burned into her flesh. It gave the princess a strange, almost otherworldly appearance, a look of beauty marred.

"I know what it was you were doing," Kasia said with a look of annoyance, "and know this, Dietrich, my past is not just free for you to browse."

"Your Imperial Highness, I didn't mean to offend—"

"I was in the apartment the entire time, and I know what it was you were after," Kasia voiced turned venomous and low.

Kasia grabbed the journal right out of her hands.

"We Romanows did not invite Wenceslaus into our home so he could have you rummage through our past—"

Dietrich pleaded, "I am not here because of Wenceslaus, and he doesn't know I'm here,"

Kasia's long eyelashes blinked, "How am I supposed to believe that?"

"I am not asking you to believe me Your Highness, but I am telling you the truth," Dietrich admitted. "The truth is I'm a stupid idiot whose curiosity got the better of her, and I'm terribly sorry, just please don't hurt me for this."

Kasia's visible temper seemed to dissipate within moments.

"I am not in the business of hurting people for curiosity, especially not here," Kasia sighed. "I could have had yours stopped some time ago if I had wanted. Aminata, come out."

Dietrich gulped when one of the room's drapes moved, and a moment later a dark-skinned Silver Guard was standing only a sword's length away.

Dietrich gasped, "The whole time?"

"You'll find a Romanow is never truly alone," Kasia admitted. "I confess I was also very curious about what it was about my past that fascinates you. So I told Aminata to hide when we noticed your approach."

"Ah," was all Dietrich could manage.

"One more thing," Kasia added, "I'd appreciate it if you didn't stare at my scar."

"Apologies," Dietrich replied.

Kasia quizzed, "Anything more you want to say, Countess?"

"You never met her," Dietrich sighed, "I lived eight years of your life memories and not once did you meet the future head of your family."

Kasia surprised her by smiling, "Oh but you would have already met her in those memories since you know about Alexander and me. Sometimes the answers we seek are hiding in plain sight."

Dietrich was left uncharacteristically tongue-tied, "Who… I mean, how could I have—"

Kasia interjected, "Failed to notice her? You should not assume the Cesarzowa acted the same way back then that she does today. Tragedy has turned her tougher, and experience has left her a very different slayer. She was even known by a different name once."

Dietrich sighed, "I couldn't figure out that secret before, and I doubt I will now."

Kasia didn't seem to sympathize, "The greatest secrets are the ones hiding in plain sight. For instance, would it surprise you to know that Wenceslaus was once an assassin?"

Dietrich got her tongue under better control, "Surely not Wenceslaus, he's a good man, I mean slayer, he—"

Kasia inquired, "Has he ever demonstrated knowledge of something called Section III?"

Dietrich thought back, "Well no. I think, or maybe he did. Yes, once, when we were under siege in Seville. But I didn't think at the time—"

"It seems 'dear' Wenceslaus thinks he has enough integrity as an ex-assassin to criticize what my family has done since gaining power. Next time you see him, ask your irritable master just why someone with such a past is continually lecturing my family about justice and morality," Kasia hissed, clearly aggravated. "Know this; the longer he keeps up his hypocritical lecturing, the less his chances grow with the Cesarzowa."

"I will tell him," Dietrich nodded, "but he is a stubborn man."

"I know," Kasia murmured.

"Your Imperial Highness, before I go, may I ask what happened in this suite?"

"You have already," Kasia sniffed in amusement before turning serious.

"There's scoring on the doorway like from that a sword," Dietrich murmured.

"Death's what happened here in this doorway," Kasia replied, "and that's as much as you need to know. I bid you goodnight, Countess. May you have better fortune serving your master than you did me."

* * *

"She's gone," Aminata remarked, looking warily through the door at the receding figure of Countess Dietrich Tuluzy.

Kasia sighed as she walked back into the living room of her old quarters with Alexander. She had come back to remember all they had shared together.

She approached the Alexander's old work desk silently like a cat.

Aminata interrupted, "Excuse me Your Grace, but I was wondering if the others might be excused from hiding. We Silver Guards do not much care for such tactics."

She considered Aminata's request, "Very well, everyone, come out."

Drapes rustled, closets opened, and on the far side of the room a dresser opened, all of these things revealing Silver Guards in full armor. Kasia smiled in pride; Dietrich had never even realized there had been another score of bodyguards around her at any one time, all listening intently.

As they hopped out of hiding, one male warrior, Lewis, was being particularly noisy as he gasped for breath struggling from the confines of the dresser.

Lewis gasped, "Gods was it tight in there!"

"Apologies Lewis, but there was nowhere else to stuff you," Kasia acknowledged.

"It's fine, Your Grace, no problems," Lewis said as he stuffed his helmet back on.

Kasia asked, "So, what did you think of our young guest, Aminata?"

"A little odd in the head," Aminata diplomatically remarked.

Lewis guffawed, "A little? When she read that note from Alexander Comnenus she started talking like she was once his lover. She's gone queer in the head."

"Side effects of her soul-linking with me," Kasia said, trying to put an end to his comments. "No doubt you'd be odd in the head after having lived another's life."

Lewis clearly didn't take the hint, "It was more than that. After she read the letter her hands were heading down to her—"

"I don't need to hear the rest of that," Kasia made clear.

Lewis, embarrassed, gratifyingly shut up.

Kasia grabbed the old satin box atop Alexander's desk and took her engagement ring out. A memory stirred her to action as she rolled it end over end.

"Lieutenant Commander," she addressed Aminata, "have this foul thing melted down."

* * *

3 years prior…

"I can't believe we're even here," Jaroslaw Tusk beamed.

A messy-haired young officer seated across from him tutted, "This is supposed to be an honor, Jaroslaw, not a time for you to act like a giddy schoolboy wanting to meet his idol."

Jaroslaw was seated at a grand feasting table outdoors with a great many comrades, nearly all young officers. No one was wearing armor, but everyone was dressed in their formal military dress in hues of black and blue.

"You're one to talk, Alexei," Jaroslaw shot back, lighthearted.

Alexei's serious face lasted just a moment before he burst out laughing.

"I'll admit I was just about dancing a jig when our commander said we'd be going to a party hosted by Antoni Poniatowski," Alexei smiled.

Jaroslaw, in a fit of sarcastic humor, addressed his modestly-built friend, "Captain Suvorov, I do believe you're not calling him by his proper titles. You should be calling him His Excellency, Field Marshal Poniatowski, Supreme Commander of Allied Army Command."

"Remind me not to get you going," Alexei laughed before finishing a drink of wine.

The feasting tables, of which there were dozens, were seated outside the forbidding granite building. The conversation was hearty and the candles at each of the tables served to adequately light the nighttime feast.

Someone tapped Tusk on the right shoulder as Alexei and all the men nearby looked back. Jaroslaw turned to find an early middle-age Bengali-descent officer wearing impeccable black military garb. The man was remarkable for his goatee and average face.

"Major General Singh," Jaroslaw greeted him, "I'm glad to see you."

The General ignored this, "The Field Marshal will be coming out from headquarters in a few minutes. He's bringing her, and I don't care what you think, I don't want either of you to make a remark. That goes especially for you, Major."

With that Singh left to head towards his place at a table full of far more somber and in Jaroslaw's opinion, an annoyingly humorless bunch of old pricks known as senior officers.

He swallowed a swig of wine and bit off a bit of bread before Alexei spoke up.

"It's a wonder that man ever invited us to his promotion feast here in Visegrad," Alexei remarked, "I suppose he must like you well enough."

Jaroslaw laughed, "And how do you figure that?"

"He promoted you to Major for one," Alexei reasoned, "and he got you two invites to this feast. What'd he mean about bringing 'her'?"

"Alexei, you're a great officer, but some days I think you have no clue about things outside the war," Jaroslaw answered back. "He's referring to Antoni Poniatowski's silver-eyed mistress, Katarzyna Yushchenka."

Alexei gasped, "Silver-eyed? She'd have to be the prettiest thing on two legs for a famous man like Poniatowski to bed her scarred body."

"Alexei, just a suggestion, try not to prejudge things," Jaroslaw warned.

Alexei's eyebrows rose as Jaroslaw beckoned him closer.

He whispered into Alexei's left ear, "Katarzyna Yushchenka is the first slayer to be inducted into the army. She was assigned to be Antoni's bodyguard after a number of officers were assassinated. Don't go around saying that; I'm not supposed to know any of that."

"You're in the wrong field of work, Jaroslaw," Alexei replied, "the way you know things about the world; you ought to be in Section III."

Jaroslaw leaned back, the noise of the party covering up their conversation, "Intelligence? In with all those assassins and special men made to be monsters? I may not be the best man for leading men into battle, but at least it's an honorable profession. It might have taken me six years to go from 2nd Lieutenant to a Major, but it's the only field for me."

Alexei shook his head, "Jaroslaw, ever since they told those aristocrats they couldn't keep their incompetent asses permanently in the upper officer ranks, even decent officers have been getting promoted like wild."

"Aye," Jaroslaw nodded, "and dying just as fast at the hands of Smokowcy."

Alexei urged, "You were born to be a spy, Jaroslaw. You've got a gift for acting and knowing things you shouldn't. You should request a transfer to—"

Alexei was cut off when every other man at the table but them rose to his feet and all conversation stopped. They belatedly followed this example and looked towards the high officers' table, where a new man had walked up.

He was of advanced middle age, with graying hair, and an attractive, clean-shaven face. His uniform was mainly black with gold buttons and braid, and the man had a black cloak bordered in gold trim. He was not physically much more intimidating than the other officers, but there was a look of cunning in his eyes that the other officers lacked in Jaroslaw's opinion.

Alexei whispered quietly, "That has to be Poniatowski."

The man greeted the stiffer Singh amiably, greeting the man awkwardly with a quick hug before turning to greet the other men. Slowly the lower-ranked officers realized he was not about to make an address and sat down. Jaroslaw warily sat down as the din of conversation picked up and the feast resumed. His eyes did not leave the man warmly greeting his guests.

"I've always wanted to meet the man," Alexei sighed, "he's supposed to be an absolute genius. He was the first to kill a Smok with nothing but cannon. He won sixteen major battles by age 30, opened the officer corps up to any man of merit, knocked the Grand Alliance's last great offensive back at age 40, founded four new military colleges, introduced standardized uniforms, and at 42 was the youngest man ever made Field Marshal."

"I don't need the man's life history quoted at me, Alexei. Besides, you're missing the best part: his promotion to Field Marshal," Jaroslaw said while digging into his potatoes. "He was secretly sacked from the position before High Command changed their minds."

Alexei looked bewildered, "What happened?"

"His mistress," Jaroslaw replied, "or at least it involved her. Poniatowski is minor nobility, which is how he was able to rise so far in those days. He was an incredibly eligible bachelor until he married at age twenty-nine to a woman of a greater house. They had a few children together until she died in childbirth a few years later. He remarried when he was thirty-six, but within a year he was estranged from his second wife."

Alexei perceptively asked, "So when did Yushchenka enter the picture?"

Jaroslaw spoke from memory, "She became his bodyguard just before his fortieth birthday, and probably his lover not long afterwards. There were whispers, but no one was sure of the affair until they promoted him to Field Marshal. He didn't invite his wife to the promotion ceremony, because they'd been living apart for years. Instead he brought Yushchenka as his honored guest."

"I bet that went down well," Alexei said with a tone that inferred the opposite.

Jaroslaw smirked, "Oh they still named him Field Marshal… for all of three days. It was a huge scandal at the time; the alliance's golden boy and military hero was having an affair with another female that wasn't even completely human. High Command found out and promptly sacked him for his 'wicked' behavior."

"I bet his wife loved that," Alexei sighed.

"Actually she was disgraced four years earlier after being caught in Prince Stephen of Comnenia's bed," Jaroslaw noted. "One could hardly blame Poniatowski for wanting to have a mistress with a wife like that."

Alexei urged, "So what then?"

"I would have thought this blindingly obvious," Jaroslaw sighed, "ever heard of the battle of Mauretania?"

"Oh, that battle," Alexei nodded, "the one where a hundred Smokowcy and their allies wiped out the city's defenders in two days. That was probably Poniatowski's finest hour!"

"He agreed to save High Command's behind on one condition; he could openly keep his silver-eyed mistress," Jaroslaw said. "She's been with him ever since, nearly twenty years now."

"That's a damn long time to have a mistress," Alexei commented, "I'm surprised he didn't find a human woman to sate his desires."

Alexei's carefree attitude changed, and suddenly he seemed to be staring intently straight at him, but Jaroslaw did his best to ignore this.

"You can call her a mistress if you want, Alexei, but truth is she's more like a wife. The only thing that keeps a man and a woman together that long is love," Jaroslaw commented.

"Jaroslaw, look behind you," Alexei stated, one hand pointing.

Jaroslaw spun to find a silver-eyed woman in a flowing gray silk dress of elegant design a few paces away in the midst of other standing officers. Her silver-grey hair was similarly straight and fell to the shoulders. Her face was youthful but not especially attractive, nor was her frame remarkably sexy. Despite all that she had truly entrancing eyes and symmetry to her proportions that was not unpleasing to the eye. She was tall for a woman, although she looked to be of average height compared to what Jaroslaw remembered of her comrades.

"Oh do go on, I was most enjoying hearing that last part," the slayer said with a smile.

The whole table seemed to have only noticed her presence now, and in the process everyone had abruptly shut up. Even the officers standing nearby who had provided the slayer the cover to approach unnoticed found their will to talk withering as they glanced over.

Jaroslaw asked, all but certain of the answer, "You are?"

"You were just talking about me," she smirked.

Jaroslaw rose to his feet, "Lady Yushchenka, this is a most welcome surprise. I had not expected you to greet the lower-ranked officers."

"You're either a sycophant or the most charmingly tolerant man I've met since Antoni to be calling me a lady," Yushchenka remarked to the visible discomfort of the other officers.

"I only meant to be friendly," Jaroslaw said, painfully aware that Major General Singh was looking his way with a very unhappy face.

"I am impressed you know so much for a man in the regular army," Katarzyna complimented. "I'd like you to meet Antoni. Come, I shall introduce you to him."

"My lady, I'm not sure that's entirely necessary," Jaroslaw begged off.

He saw Singh was already coming in their direction and thought better.

_He's likely to have my ass thoroughly stewed if she doesn't escort me. _

"On second thought, that sounds lovely," Jaroslaw said as he stood up and took her proffered arm.

Alexei gave him a startled look, and indeed, as Jaroslaw walked arm in arm with Katarzyna, many of the other officers looked shocked. Heart pounding, they neared the senior officers' table when Singh walked up.

Singh seethed with indignation, "Major, what is it you think—"

"Relax Major General, I am bringing him forward to meet my beloved," Yushchenka explained. "Surely you don't wish to create a scene at your own party."

Singh held his tongue as Katarzyna led on. The senior officers gave him a lazy look but most did not pay too close of attention. Then, suddenly, there was a trio of very-high ranked men, with Antoni Poniatowski in the center of the group. The Field Marshal turned at the approach of his paramour nearly in lockstep with the racing of Jaroslaw's heart.

"Dear," Katarzyna cooed, "I've found someone I'd like to introduce to you."

"Ah, Katarzyna," Poniatowski replied, kissing his beloved on the forehead, "who is this?"

Jaroslaw bowed from the waist, his nerves somehow not deserting him, "Your Excellency, I am Major Jaroslaw Tusk. I serve under the command of Major General Singh."

"So you're the man Singh mentioned," Poniatowski replied.

Given the lack of context this was not the most comforting thing to hear.

"Come, walk with me a ways," Antoni said, placing an arm around his shoulders.

They were just out of earshot when Poniatowski turned to him, "Singh tells me you're a very knowledgeable man. Cleverer than the vast majority of fools we have over at our intelligence service. Katarzyna, what do you think?"

"Singh recommends him highly, and I heard him discussing things he ought not to know if he were an army officer. He knew more about my past than just about any intelligence officer I've ever met," Katarzyna disclosed, "it'd be a shame to waste him on the frontlines instead of where he could really do some good."

"This is all very flattering for having just met," Jaroslaw said diplomatically, "but I would prefer to be able to serve in the army. My… personality does not fit well with our current Intelligence services."

"I would rather you serve in the army as well if what Singh says is true," the Field Marshal remarked. "Tell me Major, what is the greatest secret you know about our alliance?"

Tusk looked uncertainly at Poniatowski, "Sir?"

"It's all right, you won't get in trouble," Katarzyna reassured.

Jaroslaw knew one secret he'd acquired from an unauthorized side-trip during leave, but it was something he could've been killed for learning at the time. He looked the two in the eyes and decided to trust their word on it.

"I know what the Army is hiding in the black zone near Busan," Jaroslaw admitted.

Yushchenka's eyebrows rose in surprise, as well they might.

Her lover contained his surprise better, "Indeed, and what is it we're hiding?"

"Three captured Smokowcy," Jaroslaw confided.

Katarzyna gasped, while Poniatowski's breath stilled for a moment before he smiled, "You are either a brilliant or a foolishly courageous man to find that out. Either way, you're useful. Major, we're setting up a new department in the Allied Army, and I think we could use men like yourself in it. How would you like to be a member of Army Intelligence?"

"It would be my pleasure, Your Excellency," Jaroslaw accepted.

He didn't get a chance to continue, for the next moment a man in strange, brightly-colored garbs ran up, gasping for breath. He handed Poniatowski a sealed envelope, which the Field Marshal broke open and read quietly. His forehead creased before he dropped the note.

Katarzyna asked, sounding a little alarmed, "What's the matter, dear?"

"I need to speak to the men immediately," her lover said quietly.

Jaroslaw noticed Katarzyna bend over and scoop up the paper.

"Major, walk with me," Poniatowski said in a hushed voice.

The senior officers' table was looking over in more interest as Poniatowski approached. They parted way, no doubt expecting him to take a seat at the table. Instead the aging Field Marshal showed some youthful vigor and hopped up onto the table.

Major General Singh guffawed, "Field Marshal—"

"Shut your trap Singh, I've something important to say," Poniatowski snapped.

Singh shut up as the din of the party began to wane, everyone staring up towards their Field Marshal, who had raised a gloved fist above his head. Their commander waited until he had absolutely everyone's attention. He began his address with a booming voice.

"Gentlemen, there are moments in one's life when the cogs of history move with irresistible force. When such moments happen, we never forget where we were when we heard of them. I have just received a letter from one of your fellow officers posted in Dhakka."

A complete hush fell upon the men as their Field Marshal surveyed them.

"My comrades, today is a black day for our alliance. Sultan Bahadur is dead."

The low hubbub of conversation went completely silent in an instant.

"The realm he fought so hard to keep together is, as we speak, already being torn apart by civil war and rebellion. Eight of his sons have claimed the Peacock Throne and have taken up arms against each other. No fewer than six Nawabs have broken free and proclaimed themselves kings. Some of our brothers in the Allied Army are at this very moment fighting to break through the chaos and return to us," Poniatowski declared, his tone ever more somber. "Gentlemen, we have lost a full third of our strength… the entirety of Bengal."

* * *

"You reminiscing about how you met Antoni Poniatowski doesn't help me, Jaroslaw," Dietrich lectured her boyfriend.

She'd come back to his manor on the river shore in Visegrad despite being annoyed at him for spying upon her. She had spoken about her frustration in not understanding who the Cesarzowa really was, but Jaroslaw had instead responded with this tale about Poniatowski.

Handsome, hawk-eyed Jaroslaw, wearing a fine red vest, black pantaloons, and brown boots cut a dashing figure even seated upon his excessively large bed. He tried and failed to stifle a grin.

"You don't understand Dietrich. That was THE moment in our alliance's history since its founding. Sultan Bahadur dying before his succession was settled was—"

"Not something in which I was interested," Dietrich cut him off, folding her arms. "I will know the truth about Katarzyna Romanowa, and by God Jaroslaw, I am going to find out her history. I need to know, for Wenceslaus' sake, for—"

Jaroslaw sighed, "For your own insatiable curiosity's sake you mean. You should be incredibly grateful all you had to do to earn Princess Kasia's forgiveness was go back to being Wenceslaus' aide again. Had she gone by the law on that, you would be in jail at this very moment, charged with theft and at worst with treason."

"Alright, alright," Dietrich held her hands up in surrender, "fine, we'll talk about your 'cherished' memories."

Jaroslaw reminded her, "You are lucky you were not here during the time that followed the loss of Bengal. A third of our manpower was gone," Jaroslaw snapped his fingers, "just like that."

Dietrich tried her best to sound interested, "What happened?"

Jaroslaw laughed, "What didn't happen? Within one week of the news reaching Visegrad, the Grand Alliance had realized they might be able to finish us once and for all. No longer did they have to send armies over the passes of the mighty Kushan Mountains, nor did we have the manpower to match theirs. They could afford to send three men to fight for every two of our own. Within two weeks the full might of the Grand Alliance was attacking on the remaining southern and northern fronts, each south and north of the Maghrebi Desert."

"Then of course your Organization fell," Dietrich added.

"It wasn't our Organization," Jaroslaw objected.

"Oh really," Dietrich huffed, hands on her hips, "then whose alliance was funding them?"

Jaroslaw put a hand meant to signal surrender, "I meant it wasn't the Army's research wing. The Army was Section I, but the bastards who ran the Organization was Section III, Special Operations Command. Section II was the Navy of course, but the ones who had the ears of High Command were the Navy and Section III, not the Allied Army. Poniatowski hated that, which is partly why he began starting up his own rival intelligence and slayer programs in the Army. Section III had been losing influence to us for years by the time Bahadur died."

Jaroslaw looked down at his feet and sighed, "Of course half the enlisted men thought it meant our alliance was going to die. That month began with us losing a third our manpower, the second with the Grand Alliance launching everything they had at us, week three we got word our Awakened research wing was wiped out, but on the fourth…"

Dietrich smirked, "Let me guess, Audrey and Rado landed and demonstrated partial awakening?"

"Your account is a little off," Jaroslaw remarked as he stood up and began to pace around her. "The Romanow stepsisters first met the four Organization exiles a week before then."

Dietrich frowned, "Four?"

It was certainly something she hadn't heard about from Wenceslaus. She had always imagined it had only been loyal Audrey and Rado only.

Jaroslaw listed them off on one hand, "The Organization agent Rado, his sole subordinate slayer, the child warrior Marcella van Dam, and two captive warriors, Audrey and Raftela Tuluzy, landed near Busan and the Romanows captured them first."

Dietrich gasped, "But I thought Audrey was—"

Jaroslaw interjected as he handed her a glass of wine, "Loyal? Says who? The Cesarzowa? Did you really think the girl who had rebelled against the Organization with you would turn on your cause and go back to the Organization's masters by choice?"

Dietrich was too stunned to speak, and could only bite her lip, a sour taste from Jaroslaw's revelation becoming strong.

"Word of advice, Dietrich, never assume the Romanows are being truthful to you," Jaroslaw lectured.

This advice rankled coming from Jaroslaw.

Dietrich seethed with righteous indignation, "And instead I should just assume that because you've revealed you've only sold me out half a thousand times I should trust you instead? Spare me your advice on subterfuge, Jaroslaw, I don't want it."

"I only did what was required of me," Jaroslaw sighed, "and if you are so upset, you have an odd way of showing it by climbing back into my bed."

"I don't want to talk about us right now," Dietrich snapped, "let's just talk about something else. I'm tired of talking of deceit and lies. What of this Romanow story of yours?"

Jaroslaw grinned and paused to stare into her eyes before speaking, "It's a rather interesting family when one gets to know them. The Romanows are a cunning bunch, even three years ago. They were aware of our alliance's internal politics like few others. When they found out about partial awakening, they were smart enough to recognize its possibilities, and even more cunning in how they spread that knowledge. They could have gone to anyone, but they went straight to Field Marshal Poniatowski."

Dietrich inclined her head, "Why should that matter?"

Jaroslaw grinned in amusement, "Why wouldn't it? Poniatowski and the Allied Army hated losing out to Special Operations Command when it came to war decisions. By giving him the knowledge, the Romanows backed the Army and the end of Section III's influence."

"That can't be all there is to it," Dietrich replied, shaking her head.

Jaroslaw sipped his wine before answering, "It wasn't just that, it was the resources. We'd lost a third of our manpower, and could not afford to back both Section III's Awakened Program and the Army's Slayer Program. Ultimately Section III was in disgrace from your friend Miria destroying their research department, so High Command backed Poniatowski. It was a decision they never lived to regret…"

He trailed off, and Dietrich felt a chill upon the back of her neck.

"Why?"

Jaroslaw poured her another wine glass, "Who do you think backed that coup? The Cesarzowa may be a great general, but even she would have lost the war had the Allied Army leadership turned on her."

Dietrich folded her arms, "So the Army gave Katarzyna the throne, is that it?"

Jaroslaw quietly remarked, "She was supposed to be Poniatowski's loyal Supreme Commander, working her military miracles and obeying the Field Marshal and the Allied Army's High Command. The only problem was Romanowa had no intentions of being his marionette once he named her Supreme Commander of the Alliance of Nations."

"He should have expected that," Dietrich huffed, thinking it obvious.

Jaroslaw's eyebrows rose, "Should Poniatowski have? As far as he knew she was just the best general to come along in five centuries and no politician. Some say it was Katarzyna's stepsister Bastia that convinced her to declare herself an empress. If so, it was a brilliant bit of advice. In one step she went from the army's poodle to an independent sovereign, and they needed her so desperately they had to accept it. You of all people know the chaos that followed the High Command's overthrow."

_Yes Jaroslaw, it was cunning, but she might be better loved if her ambitions had risen no further than the rank she had earned. _

Jaroslaw swished his wine glass, "The Cesarzowa's been coup-proofing the throne since with her strengthening of the Imperial and Silver Guard Corps. If things continue as they have, she'll soon be as secure upon her throne as any legitimate monarch alive today."

"And now she's about to win the longest war in history," Dietrich sighed.

_I may hate politics, but I can only hope she'll still need Wenceslaus after all this. _

Dietrich groused to her paramour, "Princess Kasia says the Cesarzowa was once known by a different name and that I've met her in Kasia's memories. I'm sure you know the truth. Can't you at least give me a hint?"

"Look for strange coincidences," Jaroslaw said as he headed for the door.

Dietrich threw her arms out in exasperation, "What kind?"

Jaroslaw gave her a maddening grin, "You're playing a game of smoke and mirrors, Dietrich. Anyways, here, I thought this might be nice for you to have someday."

Tusk took a modest green book out of a bag and handed it to her. It was labeled in Comnenian, "Naming Your Children." A quick glance inside found various Comnenian names and their meanings.

She held up the book in Jaroslaw's face, "What is this?"

To his credit he didn't even blink, "My gift to you."

He turned to leave through the gilded doors and return to his work.

"We are not getting married and having children, Jaroslaw," Dietrich yelled after him. "You're dreaming if you think that's happening!"

He kept on walking, making a solitary wave goodbye before moving on.

Affronted, Dietrich shook the book and yelled after his receding figure, "Get back here, I'm not done chewing you out for this!"

Alevtina appeared in the doorway as she said this and appeared quite amused, "That little scrap sounded like you already were married."

Dietrich snapped, "You're not helping! Why are you here anyways?"

Alevtina pointed backwards into the palace, "Wenceslaus wants to see you."

* * *

"Crown Princess, what records we can find are nothing of the incriminating variety," James said, handing the package of his team's latest results.

Rima frowned while the even more ornately dressed Bastia smirked in triumph, "Imagine that, you had Sergei investigated on the slimmest shred of evidence imaginable."

James had done all he could since Rima, as then-acting Sovereign, had ordered him to investigate Sergei. It had admittedly been on the slimmest shred of evidence; Rima's queen Smok had thought she might have smelled Sergei's scents on the would-be assassin Raftela. The investigation unfortunately had gone nowhere. Bastia, having found out, had been furious but now was gloating.

Bastia, wearing an ornate, diamond-studded and gold-embroidered red dress, smirked, "You're so desperate to sideline Sergei's chances you pull this. I can just imagine the expression on our dear Cesarzowa's face when she finds out your abuse of power. And to think, she once thought of you as the kind of slayer who didn't want any power."

The three of them were standing in Rima's ornate quarters, stuffed full of portraits, harpsichords, musical instruments, and two argumentative Romanow stepsisters. Rima wearing an elegant black dress with a low cut revealing her considerable cleavage, which did go some way towards making the situation bearable in Jame's eyes. Bastia's dress in contrast was very conservative, which was appropriate given her large pregnancy bump bulging underneath it.

Rima scowled and look Bastia in the eyes, "You can be such a bitch."

Bastia planted her hands on her back and smirked, "And you need to know how to speak like a lady. You're both Crown Princess and heir to the throne; you need to speak like someone of that importance. I can help you with etiquette."

_How very like Bastia; even when she offers help her outstretched hand is covered in thorns. I hope Rima knows better than to dismiss this out of hand though. _

"Some other time," Rima said quietly.

Bastia seemed nonplussed, "Very well, if not from me, I'm sure you would not object to me sending our Foreign Ministry's Deputy Chief of Protocol, no?"

Rima for once surprised James; her eyes were tearing up even as she wiped them.

Rima sniffled, "Why do you have to rub things in? I wasn't born for this role, Bastia. Don't think for a minute I relished the power. Every minute I sat upon the throne I felt the weight of the world upon my shoulders. Three hundred million people's fates depended upon me, their lives, their loves, their futures, and that of the world's future! How can you favor a ruthless bastard like Sergei when there's so much at stake?"

"It takes a ruthless man to keep together a country as large as ours," Bastia replied without an edge of malice in her voice. "Politics has always been a contact sport, my dear Rima, and Sergei knows that better than anyone. The slayer you champion has lost his taste for doing what is necessary. Our Cesarzowa has no need for weak-willed hypocrites like Wenceslaus."

_You forgot our Cesarzowa doesn't trust people who lust after power like Sergei, Bastia. If she did, she would have made you and not doubting Rima as the Crown Princess. _

"I bid you goodbye for now, dear sister," Bastia said, kissing Rima on both cheeks.

Bastia left with her own contingent of Silver Guards as Rima sorrowfully watched them leave. She finally dried her eyes when James offered a handkerchief.

"Thank you James," Rima said quietly as she rose to her feet.

He steadied her with an arm, an act which led Rima to do something surprising; she smiled at him.

"I'm sorry I was once such an ass to you James," Rima apologized. "It's taken me so many years to realize how mean and rude I once was and still am on occasion. I would prefer that we be friends instead of squabbling old comrades."

James struggled for words, "Your Imperial Highness I…"

"Just Rima will do. We've known each other long enough for that," she nodded. "Come, I need to face our Cesarzowa for failing her, and I'd prefer if I had at least one friend there."

Wenceslaus sighed, "Did it occur to you at all during this time that sneaking into Romanow apartments looking for this journal was a bad idea? I could've been blamed for this and right now my head would be mounted atop a pike."

_Well you were blamed for a time, but you lucked out that Kasia believed the truth. _

Dietrich was standing before Wenceslaus, was scratching his bleach-brown beard, which had begun to grow in again. He was seated upon an elegant red chair, with Alevtina standing at attention off his right shoulder. Although he had been given one of the finer apartments in the palace, he had already taken pains to make it more elegant and less ostentatious. His clothes furthered the image, with an elegant brown and white vest, long, plain white sleeves, brown pants, and upon his feet he wore long black boots. It was all an outward display of his inner personality.

"I am sorry sir," Dietrich apologized, nodding her head, "I can offer no excuses for my behavior. My curiosity to discover the truth about Katarzyna Romanowa drove me further than it should."

A wind blew Wenceslaus' bangs as she waited for his answer. It was strange to her, offering this confession upon his apartment's balcony looking out on the palace's gardens. Most men would have preferred hearing things in the hushed indoors, but not Wenceslaus. He seemed to prefer life away from others and closer to nature.

Wenceslaus stood to his impressive height, "Dietrich, if that's what you wanted to know, I could have told you have learned even from this soul-link with Princess Kasia. You were wasting your time being her aide or soul-linking with her. Kasia's third-in-line to the throne, and she has no sway over the Cesarzowa's decisions. I hate to say it, but it really seems like you were put out to pasture."

_And how would you know that? _

Dietrich swallowed back the urge to offer a witty counter.

Wenceslaus instead waved her over to the balcony edge as they both settled their arms upon it to gaze upon the lushness that lay beyond.

Wenceslaus continued his talk from earlier, "Dietrich, I'm sure you know that the Cesarzowa is the best commander since Heraclius five centuries ago. She is famous for crushing our foes relentlessly, and yet," he sighed, "she is not as hard-hearted as I sometimes expect. It's one of the reasons why I have enough hope that I would be a good husband for her."

Dietrich frowned as she looked over, "How is she not hard-hearted?"

Solemn Wenceslaus replied in a low voice, "She once was so appalled at the conditions of an enemy field hospital she brought in our doctors to save lives."

"She has a warrior's honor," Dietrich reasoned.

Wenceslaus turned to make eye contact, "Does she? When she helped Poniatowski overthrow High Command, she decided it was too dangerous for the royal families to live. She told me in a letter once that if they had survived, they might return to raise war that would end with the loss of tens of millions. That was why it was better in her view to have every royal over the age of three sedated and poisoned. I can still recall her ending the letter, 'for the state must do whatever it takes to survive'."

Dietrich felt a tingling sense go up her spine upon hearing the last sentence.

Wenceslaus sighed, "If not for her supporter's overwhelming numbers in Seville, I would have revolted the moment I heard of that. But she followed that atrocity with ending the oppression of serfdom and liberating tens of millions from slavery. In one act she did more good for mankind than has been done in centuries, but the way she did it has earned her more enemies than even Sultan Bahadur had when he was ordering the slaughter of entire principalities."

Dietrich could not contain her aggravation at him, "But was that because of the way she did it or because of what she did?"

Wenceslaus turned to frown at her, "You're sounding a lot like Princess Kasia."

Dietrich felt something urging her on within, "When were you going to tell me you were once an assassin for Section III?"

Wenceslaus coolly surveyed her, "Kasia told you about my old days, didn't she?"

Dietrich lectured with a hand, "I was made to look a fool, Wenceslaus. I presented you as some white knight and she shot that down immediately. How can you go to the Romanows and lecture them when you're hiding a past like that?"

Wenceslaus closed his eyes, sighed, and looked down before replying, "It is not something I am proud of, I promise you. Yes, I was once an assassin, one of the best our alliance ever had. But my targets were only military leaders or rebels who meant our alliance harm. I never enjoyed my work, but I never compromised my integrity in it either."

Dietrich gave him a look of disbelief as Alevtina observed them from the side.

Wenceslaus turned his unblinking gaze upon Dietrich, "It was during my first five years as an active warrior, when I was between the ages of fifteen and twenty. Those days came to an end when they assigned me a target deep in enemy territory. I was told he was a young lord whose plans threatened to cause great harm to our alliance. I had no reason to disbelieve my superiors, so I went on that mission. When I finally smashed through his household guards and knocked down the door to his bedroom, you know what I found?"

"A five-year old boy," Alevtina interjected, "shaking from fear."

Wenceslaus did not seem to mind his aide's interjection, "His name was Funihashi Junichiro, and he was the heir to the Osakan Empire. I admit I was torn; on the one hand the boy was likely to someday do great harm to my alliance. On the other hand he was just an innocent, terrified little boy who had committed no sin but being born to the wrong parents. In the end I could not justify killing a child, and I aborted my mission."

Dietrich's jaw dropped, "How are you still alive? In the Organization they would kill people for such things!"

Wenceslaus grabbed his massive double-bladed battle-axe and hoisted it over one shoulder, "For a short time my immediate handler was foolish enough to try just that. His superiors put a stop to it after I killed or wounded the four squads of slayers sent to do me in."

_He took on the equivalent of every claymore in the Organization and lived. _

It was almost like seeing him for the first time. She had only really known his soft-hearted nature, but as she looked over his figure, it was clear why this man was a contender for Cesarzow. Even through his clothes it was obvious he had a very well-built chest, arms and legs that bulged with muscles, a classic v-shaped hunky frame, a jaw that looked almost chiseled out of stone, big, coarse hands, and his face featured a strong nose, piercing eyes, a short beard, and a long vertical scar that ran from above his right eye to just above his thin lips.

_Well, I guess that's one thing you've got going for you. Even if you and the Cesarzowa don't get along, you're built like the guys from women's fantasies. That said; if it was in my power, I'd have gotten rid of that ghastly scar. _

Dietrich mustered enough will to put an end to her wandering gaze and say, "So they just forgave that?"

"They knew I was talented enough to be of some worth," Wenceslaus shrugged, "and besides, I'd have been really hard for them to kill."

_You beat forty-eight slayers in combat and you talk about it like it was just an everyday problem. No wonder the Cesarzowa keeps an eye on you. _

"I heard about Seville's elected government," Dietrich remarked, changing the subject. "Did you and Kasia talk about that?"

Alevtina butted in, "Kasia was absolutely livid with the Seville Council. It seems there was a mixed race Khaledonian-Bengali couple in the city that was upsetting their neighbors. The Council promptly was petitioned to 'end the abomination' and voted to outlaw interracial marriage. The separated wife then came to Visegrad, petitioned the empress, and the Cesarzowa was so insulted she shut down the government and installed a military governor."

"Followed by three days of rioting," Wenceslaus bitterly added. "Even the Romanows rule with the consent of the people, and we slayers ignore it at our peril. I've never heard anyone so disparaging of democracy as Kasia. She made it sound like the public is only incapable of injustice and her family only capable of good."

_Well considering her childhood of being taunted and attacked by crowds of other kids due to being mixed race, I can't say I entirely blame her dislike of majority opinion. _

"Rule by the people sounds fine on paper," Dietrich countered, "but what the people of Seville wanted was not just, and it was nothing less than a personal insult to the Romanows! Kasia and Rima are both of mixed race, and Bastia's unborn children will also be mixed-race."

"It was the will of the people," Wenceslaus objected, "I cannot force them to be tolerant."

Dietrich's voice rose in indignation, "Who stops the majority when they decide to strip the minorities of their rights? Who ensures that democracy does not turn into the tyranny of the majority? What's to stop the majority if it demands the deaths of an entire ethnic group? "

Wenceslaus' voice rose noticeably, "I am not reliving the debates I had with Kasia with you, Dietrich, and you would be well-advised to remember you are not her. I don't know what that soul-link did to you, but try to remember your own point of view. Kasia wanted to ensure the rights of all, it's true, but rights are hollow things when no one has been given the liberties to defend them. Her answer would only empower the military, and that's a poor institution for protecting rights in any country."

"I take it this meeting did not go well," Dietrich remarked, ending their spat.

"It could've gone worse," Wenceslaus sighed, his voice once more calm, "especially since the way Kasia talks she could give our dear Cesarzowa a real run for the money."

Dietrich frowned for a moment.

Alevtina noticed, "What's the matter?"

"Sorry, for a moment there I felt like I was Kasia again," Dietrich replied.

* * *

James clambered into the ornate carriage after the well-dressed Rima and sat opposite of her as required. He had, after all, been assigned as her top bodyguard for the day, and a Silver Guard was required to always travel inside a carriage with a Romanow. While the carriage was surrounded by his well-armored comrades, it never hurt to have an ultimate backup.

As James watched Rima look out the window, it was clear worries over her personal security were the last thing on her mind. Rima was looking out blankly at the crowds of awed onlookers outside as the carriage began moving over the cobblestone streets of Visegrad.

"Rima, you'll be fine," he reassured with a pat of a hand on her knee.

Rima jerked back, startled, "Damn it James, don't do that when I'm deep in thought!"

"Apologies," James answered soothingly. "Might I ask what it was that troubles you?"

Rima sighed, looking rather deflated, "What do you think troubles me? My sisters are going to rip me for my performance as acting sovereign and I'll probably be stripped of my rank of Crown Princess. On top of that I'll have to watch Bastia's thinly-veiled gloating. I swear if I didn't love my sister so much I'd have given Bastia the beating she's always deserved."

"You did the best you could," James sympathized.

Rima's eyes turned watery, "and it wasn't enough! I spent the last seven years before I was Crown Princess caring for three Smokowcy. I wasn't prepared for this job, I didn't want this job, and I don't enjoy it either. You know what it feels like?"

James suggested, "Excessively formal?"

Rima shook her head, "It feels like I'm trapped between the weight of the world and my 'loving' stepsister. I would give anything to be able to trust Bastia with being heir."

"But you can't trust her," James nodded.

_There are plenty of us who know better than to trust Bastia, my dear Rima. _

Rima gestured with her hands to make her point, "It's not as if she doesn't love our Cesarzowa, but she acts like a sovereign's concerns aren't anything stressing. The damn girl just doesn't appreciate the magnitude of the job's consequences."

Rima went silent, observing the Imperial Guards in formation, holding back the crowd of onlookers outside. There was a gap in the crowd near a fountain, and Rima suddenly took a second look as they passed.

She smacked the back of the driver's compartment, "Stop the coach!"

"Crown Princess," James managed to say.

Rima ignored him, opened the door, and jumped out, causing his heartbeat to skyrocket. He rushed after his long-legged charge in desperation as the crowds rushed towards her, many appearing to want to touch her or petition her. Rima showed no signs of concern as she pushed her way through them towards the fountain. James couldn't reach her, the crush of the crowd cutting him off.

"I swear they all have a secret death wish," the Silver Guard next to him complained.

"Get in there and protect her, Lewis," James snapped.

As Lewis pushed through the crowds towards the Crown Princess nearly a hundred Imperial Guards rushed up to the crowd's edge and paused, appearing more than a little confused by the situation, "Get going, I want a defensive perimeter around the Crown Princess!"

The armored men snapped to their duties, two score of them pushing back the crowds as they rushed to safeguard the ever-careless Rima. James for his part plunged in after her with a dozen Silver Guards, and finally, after half a minute of struggling they finally reached her.

Surprisingly he found Rima safely ensconced within a protective cordon of both Imperial Police constables and Imperial Guardsmen. He also noticed an old woman in a priestess' black and white robes nearby, lying still upon her back against the cobblestones. She was obviously dead, with the blood from several knife wounds in her torso already dry. Several coins scattered near her feet gave hints to the reason for the crime. A few flies hovered over her, but Rima was ignoring the dead woman.

A young, well-groomed police lieutenant was trying to not tie his tongue in knots talking to her, "We…we secured the scene just minutes ago. So far as I know…the priestess was the little girl's care…caretaker. Constable Casillas, bring the girl."

A moment later, amidst the sounds of much crying, an older Constable dressed in standard Imperial Police black and gold came forward. In his arms was a squirming little girl who could not have been more than three years old. Casillas dropped the girl delicately at the feet of Crown Princess Rima, whose expression looked not unlike that of an adoring mother's.

"It's alright dear, nobody's going to hurt you," Rima cooed as she kneeled.

The little girl was silver-eyed, something he hadn't expected, as slayer orphans were always adopted by others of their kind. Dressed in a plain green dress, she could not have been any older than two and a half, and had lots of curly white hair. Her cheeks were red and covered in tears, and she was flinching away from Rima's outstretched arms.

"I want Sister Isabella," the little girl cried, an arm stretched towards the dead priestess.

Rima caught the little girl by the waist before she could rush back to the dead woman.

"I'm sorry dear, but Isabella's in a better place," Rima sympathized as she picked up the squirming, teary-eyed girl.

Rima mouthed, 'Did you get her name' at the Police lieutenant.

He mouthed a name back at Rima in response.

"Uph," Rima gasped, as the girl tried to jump from her arms, "It's okay Chloe, I'm not going to hurt you. We'll pay our respects to Isabella later. That's a dear girl, bury your sorrows and I'll make certain you're safe."

Chloe had buried her tear-soaked face into Rima's large bosom, having either accepted her comfort or given up trying to escape.

James hadn't felt such heartache since watching Lillian being hanged.

Rima rubbed the girl's back for reassurance, "It's okay dear, your auntie Rima is here."

Despite the reassurances the girl kept crying.

"She's quite the crier," an Imperial Guard remarked.

Rima snapped, "She's just lost her caretaker and I'm some scary unfamiliar lady, of course the girl is going to cry! You'd do the same in her shoes."

The mustached, armored Guardsman shut up, chagrined.

"It's going to be okay, Chloe," Rima soothed in a maternal voice he had not often heard her use; "We're going to see my sisters."

* * *

Dietrich breathed a sigh of relief as she stopped to catch her breath underneath a vine-covered veranda. It was early in the morning, and the dawn light creeping in was just enough to read by. She looked around to see she hadn't been followed and seeing no one, took out a small red journal from one sleeve.

"Jaroslaw's going to kill me for stealing this," Dietrich murmured to herself.

She opened the journal to reveal swirly, stylized calligraphy utterly unlike that of Kasia's writing she had glimpsed earlier. Instead, the journal's owner had signed her name with an especially girlish flourish, "Rima Romanowa".

It had admittedly been an incredibly brash decision; she'd stolen into Rima's apartment on the excuse she was there to leave a small gift from Princess Kasia. The surprising thing had been how not one of the guards had questioned her. They had simply let her through, and Dietrich had left her giftbox with one of Kasia's old necklaces inside it. After that, it had simply been a frantic minute of searching before finding Rima's journal atop her bed. This she had swiped and had then left just as the night was ending. Thus here she was, having rushed off to the peace and solitude of the palace's gardens to read in secret.

_You may be an enigma, Cesarzowa, but you won't be forever. I may never find out from Kasia who you truly are, but Rima does not seem the type capable of such deceit. Especially since she never knew I was going to pawn her journal. _

Dietrich felt a twinge of guilt as she started reading, skimming backwards in time until she reached the time right around when Jaroslaw mentioned the Romanows taking the four Organization exiles captive. It took a good ten minutes, but finally she found an entry only too worthy of reading.

* * *

Rima could not believe what she was hearing from the strangely-accented handler who was seated before her, his hands in a pair of steel cuffs. Surrounding the two of them were the thick, dry stone walls that was her squad's living quarters. Only a pair of small windows let in light into the dim sandstone room.

"You landed in a black zone, sir, not Busan," Rima lectured with an armored hand, "and by all Allied Army rules I could have your head off for this. Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't."

The man was wearing a tattered black uniform with black boots, all but the latter made of dyed cotton. He was not remarkably tall or commanding, but he had a sinister nature to him she had only ever seen in Section III men. His pale white eyes were proof enough of that.

The man looked up and held his hands out, pleading in strangely-accented Comnenian, "I told you what happened already. I was with Section III's research department on—"

"An unknown island that somehow the whole rest of the alliance never knew about," Rima shook her head in disbelief. "We checked with Special Operations Command already, and they disavow any knowledge of this island of Toulouse."

The man sighed, "It's useless asking them about it. My superiors will never admit to the program's existence, let alone that of the island. Please, let me send them a message to them detailing the revolt and destruction of our Organization. It's in the interests of the whole alliance! You must let me have this one privilege."

A man in a black army uniform and cloak walked in, "We have word from Visegrad; they want this man back in Visegrad."

Rima scowled, "Major Tusk, this man and the three strange warriors saw the Smokowcy! We cannot just let them go free again."

Jaroslaw Tusk presented her a letter, "Orders came in from the Field Marshal himself. Rado Sagliere and his compatriots are to be turned over to Army Intelligence."

Rado bristled, "Army Intelligence? You bastards have nerve! You think I'll shut up about your precious Smokowcy because the Army tells me to?"

Rima could take no more, and unsheathed her massive sword and grabbed Rado by the scruff of his collar. She held her sword up to his throat.

Major Tusk grasped her left arm for all the good it would do stopping her, "Don't. The man's a bastard, but you'll have Field Marshal Poniatowski to answer to if you kill him."

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't give you the fucking shave of your life," Rima snarled, nicking Rado on the neck as she did.

"Stop, stop," Rado screamed.

"Then give me a reason why I should let you live after you threatened my Smokowcy," Rima countered, shaking the man.

"The claymore that's almost awakened," Rado gasped, "I can help save her."

Rima stopped shaking him, "How? My poor stepsister's nearly turned into a monster. There's no known way of turning her back."

Rado coughed, "One of the captive warriors, Audrey, the one with the long hair. She knows a technique we discovered the rebels using. It will allow her to surpass her yoma energy limits and return to normal."

* * *

Rima pushed the scared, shorter warrior Audrey up the final flight of stairs. The younger warrior wore a strange grey uniform, which featured a variety of cuts all over. Audrey might have looked strange, but if she had the secret to reversing awakening, it did not matter.

They reached the top of the sandstone stairs together, and Audrey turned skittish the moment she saw what was laying down mere meters away.

White-scaled Duchess, now over a story tall at the shoulder, cast a mournful look over at the two of them as she lay upon her belly in the immense sandstone cave entrance. Audrey tried to run away, but Rima held her firmly. A moment later Major Tusk and Rado emerged behind Audrey. Tusk was obviously ill at ease but did his best to disguise it. Rado instead gazed upon Duchess in fascination, which was none too pleasing.

Duchess interjected in her gravelly, sad voice, "Kasia's not smelling any better."

Rima's eyes filled with tears as she looked to see what had become of her stepsister. Laying upon a table was Kasia, only her left arm had transformed, with large scythe-like fingers in place of what had been her hand. The flesh of Kasia's arm had turned from skin to dark, scaled skin, and the arm itself was at least double in length of the normal right arm.

Rima noticed Bastia leaning, forlorn, against the side of the cave. She was dressed in standard armor of a slayer, with steel cuirass, gauntlets, tassets, and greaves armoring her well-built frame.

Bastia frowned, "What's going on?"

"Rado," Rima jerked a hand back towards the handler, "says this warrior can change Kasia back. I'm going to try it."

Bastia gasped, "Are you out of your mind? We tried everything to save her already. There's no way we can bring her back, Rima. We tried, and we couldn't stop her yoki surging too high. Her wounds and injuries were too great."

"No thanks to your mother," Rima spat, "why didn't you kill the bitch?"

"That would've branded me as a traitor, and I couldn't save Kasia and kill her. I assure you, she's no mother of mine," Bastia shot back, "As far as I'm concerned, I'm a Romanow from today on.

"Then you won't object if I try to make one last try to save our sister's life," Rima reasoned, motioning over the sheepish slayer, Audrey.

Bastia had brought Kasia in badly wounded, with a broken neck, over a dozen broken ribs, with all four limbs broken, not to mention looking badly beaten. Worse, the attack had left her several hard-to-heal internal injuries. It was shocking enough that Bastia had managed to find her in the secret zone, but even more shocking to find Kasia brutalized. Bastia had only said it was the doing of her mother's bodyguards. Bastia at least had some small bit of revenge in being able to kill the bodyguards, if not the woman who had ordered the brutal attack.

Kasia's own effort at healing had pushed her Yoma energy too high already, and it had taken the both of them to heal the injuries. But this had not addressed her ever-rising yoki, which was threatening to turn Kasia into a monster before their eyes.

Bastia reluctantly let Audrey pass, and Rima could see Kasia's condition had worsened since she had last seen her. Her eyes were golden, and her teeth were turning ever sharper and more monstrous. Her veins and arteries were popping out and strained, and her neck muscles were clenched.

_Gods be good, she's still fighting to stay human. _

"Rima," Kasia gasped where she laid upon her back, "you can't do any more good on my behalf. Let me die a human. I'll be able to see Yushchenka once more."

Rima felt tears fall fast and hot upon her cheeks, which she wiped away.

"You are not going to die," Rima cried, "this slayer can save you."

Audrey touched Kasia's increasingly scaly forehead and bit her lip.

The slayer interjected in her strange silky tongue, "Qu'est-il arrivé?"

Rado was about to translate when Rima cut him off, "Tell her I don't care to answer anything. Just save Kasia's life and you can have yours."

This was relayed to Audrey who suddenly blanched and then began pushing her Yoma energy to alarming levels. From what little Rima knew of the technique, it involved yoki synchronization. Rima stood back, as did Bastia, and for the first time in her life, she could do nothing but watch, hope and pray.

* * *

"It bloody worked" were the last words of the entry about saving her sister.

"It bloody worked," Dietrich murmured to herself as she read it in Rima's journal.

They certainly wouldn't have been the words she would have used to describe the first instance of partial awakening on the continent. But they were the words of someone whose loved one had come perilously close to becoming a monster. She certainly would have been relieved in Rima's shoes.

Dietrich skimmed as she went ahead in time. As Rima kept going, she catalogued events like of the three Romanows delivering Audrey, Rado, Marcella and Raftela to Field Marshal Poniatowski. There were several descriptions of the frantic effort afterwards to partially awaken as many slayers as was possible. But then something surprising happened; Rima's references to Kasia suddenly vanished. It was like the girl had disappeared, and instead of her dear, long-loved sister, Rima was praising Katarzyna Romanowa and grudgingly, her adopted sister Bastia.

Dietrich could not suspend her disbelief, "What the hell?"

"_Look for strange coincidences." _

Jaroslaw's words echoed in her mind. This certainly was a strange coincidence. How could Rima suddenly not reference Kasia? Dietrich rushed back to prior to Kasia being brought to Rima in the journal.

_How odd, even when they hadn't seen each other in four years, Rima still mentions her sister Kasia. Just what the hell is going on? _

An idea took Dietrich, and she flipped through the pages to around the time of the assassination attempts on Kasia and Katarzyna.

The pages there were no help, for they were full of Rima referencing how she wanted vengeance and had been caring for her sister. But the pages didn't say which one.

"_The Cesarzowa cannot afford to lose Kasia; she absolutely cannot afford to lose her" _

Rima's words from just after the attacks echoed in Dietrich's mind.

"_You were wasting your time being her aide or soul-linking with her. Kasia's third-in-line to the throne, and she has no sway over the Cesarzowa's decisions. I hate to say it, but it really seems like you were put out to pasture." _

Conflicting lines from Wenceslaus and Rima only made her confusion worse. It made her recall what Jaroslaw had said earlier.

"_Word of advice, Dietrich, never assume the Romanows are being truthful to you." _

Dietrich smacked her head in frustration. There was something important she was missing, but none of what she remembered was helping.

_"You're NOT being put out to pasture." _

Jaroslaw's words seemed the more truthful out of all the comments on being Kasia's aide. There was just one problem; she had no idea how Kasia was important to Wenceslaus' marriage prospects.

_If Kasia wasn't important, why would Raftela bother trying to kill her? _

Dietrich didn't have an answer to that, and it brought to mind another of her conversations with Jaroslaw, this one about Kasia possibly being secretly married.

_ "For her to have secretly married Havel would risk the Imperial Family's reputation at the least." _

Dietrich twirled the journal in her hand as birds chirped nearby in the garden. She could barely see the garden around her, such was her concentration.

_It didn't matter to the Cesarzowa that Bastia married Leon Gonzalez, and he's not exactly the most powerful slayer. Why does Kasia's marriage have to be for alliances and Bastia's does not? For that matter, why is it I never once heard about the Cesarzowa pressuring Rima to wed? _

Dietrich felt lost. No matter how many times she tried to brainstorm about the Cesarzowa, she kept getting sidetracked thinking about Kasia.

Dietrich sighed, "What was it Kasia said about the Cesarzowa?"

It was a rhetorical question, but finally something came to mind.

"_Oh but you would have already met her in those memories since you know about Alexander and me." _

_Who the hell of Kasia's friends was the future Cesarzowa? Wenceslaus says Yushchenka's dead, and now that I re-read this journal of Rima's, I think I know when it happened. It had to have been the same attack upon Kasia that did for her friend too. _

It was Katarzyna's Yushchenka's words that finally helped her move on.

"_Don't worry Kasia; I'm sure Antoni will gladly have me as his aide and personal bodyguard. Maybe I'll even learn a little about battlefield tactics and strategy. Besides, you may be even better a commander than I am." _

Wenceslaus had once had something to say on the matter of Kasia's generalship.

"_Name me one battle she's won. Why would Rima possibly want Kasia in charge of our forces? We would be better off praying for the Cesarzowa's return." _

Jaroslaw had once had a very different take on Kasia.

"_If she weren't a worse combatant than the Crown Princess or Princess Bastia, she'd be the heir." _

_But why isn't she? The Cesarzowa's whole reign has been built on her wits, not strength. Kasia is without doubt the smartest of the Romanow sisters. _

Dietrich pondered the conundrum of the Cesarzowa's actions.

"_Oh but you would have already met her in those memories since you know about Alexander and me. Sometimes the answers we seek are hiding in plain sight."_

Dietrich's stomach rumbled. There was something about the way Kasia said it that bothered her deep down.

"_You should not assume the Cesarzowa acted the same way back then that she does today. Tragedy has turned her tougher, and experience has left her a very different slayer. She was even known by a different name once." _

Remembering the words sent Dietrich racing back to Rima's journal, which she began thumbing through. No matter how hard she looked, she could only ever find two Romanow sisters at a time in Rima's references. It was both Kasia and Bastia, or it was Katarzyna and Bastia. Her spine was downright tingling by this time.

"_Look for strange coincidences." _

_What is it I'm missing? How can there only be only two Romanow sisters Rima knows at a time? It's not like Kasia went and disappeared. Unless…_

"_She was even known by a different name once." _

It was Kasia's voice, and within moments a startling idea hit Dietrich like a pile of bricks.

"Oh my fucking God," Dietrich cursed in shock as she realized the profound.

An all-too-familiar voice interrupted, "Something the matter, Countess Tuluzy?"

Dietrich turned to find Kasia Romanowa walking up the path towards her, unescorted and unarmed. But based on past experience, Dietrich knew it was unlikely the former was true. The person she knew as Kasia plopped down beside her and looked out to flower-filled clearing.

"No," Dietrich lied, doing the best she could to keep her hands from shaking.

Kasia was wearing an ornate black and gold dress of startling wealth and beauty. It had languid sleeves that draped down from her arms, it hugged her tight around the torso, and the dress puffed out around the shoulders. Golden embroidery in the shapes of flowers and edges finished the captivating look. Dietrich knew where she'd seen the dress before, only at the time it had been worn with an enormous hat complete with veil. The realization was making it hard for Dietrich to breathe as she realized just who was sitting beside her.

"Beautiful morning isn't it," her long-time superior commented.

_Only way to know for sure I've come to the right conclusion is try out the proper form of address. Oh please don't let me screw this up. _

"I…I wasn't expecting you…Your," Dietrich paused, "Your Supreme Imperial Majesty."

The wavy-haired slayer besides her glanced over, face utterly without emotion.

Dietrich's former boss almost nonchalantly asked, "And what led you to that conclusion?"

Dietrich took a deep breath before answering, "What you said. You said the Cesarzowa once acted differently than today, that tragedy made her tougher, and experience made her a different woman. It all fits to what happened to you, the attack, your past, and your incredible smarts. I can't think of any other female that has ever mastered calculus, and yet you did. And your sister's journal only references two sisters. Kasia disappears after a certain time, and almost magically in her place comes Katarzyna Romanowa. Why did you do it? Why did you change your name?"

The brown-skinned slayer sighed, "I didn't change my name. That book Jaroslaw gave you would have provided your answer. You'll find under the entry for Kasia that it can also be a nickname for Katarzyna. My mother was the one that called me Kasia for short before I met Rima. The only person who ever called me by my full name of Katarzyna was my late father, Bernard. In honor of both him and the friend I lost to Prince Alexander's mother, I decided when Poniatowski commissioned me that I would be known by my full name."

Dietrich could only feel a numb shock at the magnitude of the secret that had been concealed from her in plain sight.

Katarzyna patted her on the leg, "I did warn you sometimes the greatest secrets are those hiding in plain sight, did I not?"


	19. Chapter 18: Following Katarzyna

**Chapter 18:**

**Following in the Steps of Katarzyna**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A Complete History"**

**By C. Havel**

**Katarzyna was a highly unusual slayer, and the reasons for this lay with her past. Her white-skinned father, Bernard, and black-skinned mother, Faraja, wed against the universal wishes of their families. Shunned by family and scorned for her "mongrel race", the experience left the future empress with an undying belief that people were not innately just. Her father was noted by the few that remembered these times as treating his daughter much like a son, something that led Katarzyna to remember her father fondly.**

**When Bernard was lost on an expedition and her mother later died, Katarzyna and her stepsister Rima fell on hard times. For this reason they made the rare decision to volunteer to become slayers. Joining under her nickname, Kasia, she had unwittingly joined the Slayer Program early enough that Special Operations Command agents were still doing the hybridization process accompanied with branding. Katarzyna's individual mark was branded upon her left cheek, and would leave an impression for life.**

**As her warrior training began, her stepsister soon showed herself to be a child prodigy in the ways of combat. Katarzyna however was merely a very good warrior, but nowhere near an elite warrior like Wenceslaus, Victoria McKenzie or Indira. Army slayers however were given a surprisingly rigorous education to make them more useful in the field, and it was here young Katarzyna began showing signs of her promise. She went on to score the highest math, writing and combat tactics scores of any warrior in history.**

**Romanowa graduated early at age fifteen alongside Rima, and on their first mission together they surprisingly survived won a battle against two Smokowcy. Impressed, Lillian O'Malley promoted Rima to commander and made "Kasia" her Vice Commander. Eventually they would meet the then-far-more-famous Katarzyna Yushchenka, who led them on a daring raid that hit a Smokowcy breeding ground and netted three Smokowcy hatchlings. Promoted to Squad Commander, Katarzyna Romanowa's intellect helped her survive an ambush by Iron Claws, the hatchlings' sire and Vice Chieftain of the entire draconic tribe.**

**Fearing that the mission's survivors might reveal knowledge of the hatchlings' location, Katarzyna was reassigned to be bodyguard commander for young Prince Alexander of the Comnenian Royal Family. Although at first taken sexual advantage of by her young superior, Katarzyna eventually came to recognize her leverage over him. Thanks to guarding an eclectic genius and having access to the Comnenian Royal Library, she attained a level of learning never before seen in a member of her sex. She learned six new languages, mastered calculus in weeks, learned surgery first-hand, helped Prince Alexander make medical advances, and learned more about warfare, history, politics, engineering, agriculture, law, astronomy, and the world than any queen knew. But young Katarzyna made the near-fatal error of getting engaged to Alexander.**

**Alexander's mother Anna was infuriated by his engagement to a "silver-eyed whore" and forced her son to scratch the engagement. Moving immediately, her bodyguards killed Katarzyna Yushchenka when she tried to protect her friend, and proceeded to torture Romanowa. Anna's estranged warrior daughter Bastia brought an end to this when she killed the bodyguards and left her mother fuming and powerless. Taken to the sanctuary of Rima's hideout with her Smokowcy, Katarzyna's life and fractured body was saved by the knowledge of partial awakening being brought to the mainland by Audrey Tuluzy.**

**Having given Poniatowski this knowledge, 25-year-old Katarzyna Romanowa faced an uncertain future and one morning was summoned to his personal office…**

* * *

"The armor suits you Bastia," Kasia complimented, looking over her old friend.

Bastia smiled for once as the last pauldron was secured onto her left shoulder.

Kasia nodded, "You'll have to thank the Field Marshal for this. I can't even begin to contemplate how much expense he went to acquiring a set of pure Duratium plate armor for her."

"I'm just thankful it fits," Bastia responded.

Bastia certainly looked the part of an elite warrior. The armor consisted of gold-edged greaves, armored shoes, a cuirass, gauntlets, and pauldrons. The only thing that was lacking was a proper helmet.

Kasia noted, "You're not going to wear a helmet?"

Bastia touched her hairbun, "I've enough skill to cut through any comer without worrying about a helmet. It takes ages to keep my hair like this anyways."

Kasia pointed to one of the room's two arched windows, "Might I ask what you plan on doing with this armor out there?"

Before Bastia could reply there came a knock at the wooden door.

Kasia answered, "Yes?"

A man's voice answered, "Dowódca Romanowa please."

Kasia opened the door to find Lieutenant Colonel Jaroslaw Tusk at the door in a crisp black officer's uniform and cloak. The hawk-eyed man handed her an ornately sealed letter; a glance was enough to tell it was from the Field Marshal. Kasia broke the seal and read.

She murmured in surprise, "I've been personally summoned by the Field Marshal."

It took a few minutes to gather the squad and get everyone ready, although judging by the blushing faces of Katja and Lewis and hushed laughter of Andrei something had been awkwardly interrupted. Kasia squashed the quiet laughter with a warning look, and with that distraction ended, it took little time to ready. Shortly afterwards everyone was in full armor.

"Everyone on best behavior, this is no time for mouthing off," Kasia warned, giving the brown-skinned Lewis a warning stare which he did his best to pretend wasn't directed at him.

They filed out of the room and down into the austere red sandstone halls of the Allied Army Headquarters beyond. They were just passing by the training halls for silver-eyed slayers when a familiarly arrogant female voice interrupted.

"Well, look at this," Victoria McKenzie sneered, "our would-be princess has deigned to appear before the rest of us. Greetings your Highness-ness."

Victoria McKenzie was twirling one of her three braids with one hand while leaning on the handle of her wickedly sharp, single-edged Katana sword's handle.

Kasia barely paid the smaller warrior any mind, but Bastia on the other hand had her eyes fixed on Victoria and was clearly ready for a fight. Kasia didn't need to look at the rest of the squad to know their reaction; she knew them well enough to expect them to follow her lead, not Bastia's, which would be a good thing knowing Victoria's inflammatory personality.

Kasia walked right on by the pale-faced warrior along with Bastia. It was the sound of a sword handle being unsheathed that stopped everyone in their steps.

"Why don't you stick around and practice a little? Who knows, you might learn a little humility, you gold-digging harlot," Victoria spat out.

It was a challenge that at least had to be addressed. Kasia inhaled, and nodding to Bastia, turned around to find Victoria McKenzie with her sword unsheathed and pointed straight at her chest, although its point was two meters away. Behind Victoria were some half score of warriors who were looking on with visible interest.

_This is not good. She's angling for a fight, and I can't afford to turn this occasion into a bloodbath. But since this is about humiliation, I suppose it's about time she learned there's more than a physical way of humiliating your rivals. _

"What do you want, Victoria?"

Victoria sniffed in amusement, "What are you, afraid to take me on? You see squad, this is what happens when you spend five years screwing princes and pretending to be nobility. It breeds cowardice like you see here."

Kasia clapped, "Bravo, Victoria, although I must say your insults had more zing to them before you failed to win the Battle of Kagano. As for fighting you, do you seriously think I'm foolish enough to get into a ring with you, Victoria? Why should I fight a stronger warrior with a vendetta against me with real swords? If I entered the ring against you on your terms, we both know I wouldn't be leaving it alive, even in a 'practice' fight."

"You see, her supposed wisdom prevents her fighting with honor," Victoria mocked.

Kasia did her best not to glare before instead addressing Victoria's squad, "Your 'honorable' commander five years ago visited Katarzyna Yushchenka after Iron Claws ripped off her legs and ended her warrior career. Commander McKenzie did the 'honorable' thing and taunted a wounded warrior on her hospital bed. I am the subject of her ire only because I stood up for a fellow patriot whose fighting career was at an end."

Victoria looked like she would prefer to chop her in two but seemed to find it difficult to find anything in rebuttal.

Kasia continued, "Let me ask you, Victoria, what matters more for a leader, being a great warrior or a great commander?"

Victoria gave her a sneering smile, "Being a great warrior is always more important. It's why my squad follows me. They've come to learn from the best, which is more than I can for any of your squadmates."

"I imagine then that your squad has suffered few casualties and had many victories, especially in recent times," Kasia noted. "If a warrior's 'power' was all that mattered, I ought to have been dead several times over. Yet, here I am, having survived even an ambush by Iron Claws, without my squad suffering a single casualty. Yet when your squad of 'superior warriors' was ambushed by Iron Claws, I hear you lost over three quarters of them."

Victoria reached back to swing, "You long-legged bitch!"

"Stay your blade this instant!" A man's voice interrupted.

The hawk-nosed Lieutenant Colonel Tusk had reappeared, having vanished minutes earlier as the squad had readied for the trip to Poniatowski's office.

_What convenient timing, Tusk; you slip away only to return just when Victoria finally does something incriminating. _

Victoria McKenzie hesitated for just a moment, which the army intelligence officer took as being balked.

Tusk bellowed, "You dare question a superior officer?"

"Of course not, sir," Victoria relented, "I was just caught by surprise."

Victoria sheathed her blade quickly, and then Tusk turned.

"You two would do well not provoke something, and don't for a minute think I am unaware of your baiting tactics, Romanowa," Tusk said, making his point more forcefully with a pointed stare.

Kasia held her tongue, although she was tempted to say something.

"I want the two of you to turn around, take your squads with you, and don't let me hear of something similar to this happening again. The Field Marshal would be most displeased if he had to execute elite warriors over petty grudges."

Kasia breathed in deep, gave Victoria one last glance, and turned away. She had barely walked half a minute when a claymore with long, straight strawberry blond hair and a pointed nose came into view. She was leaning against the inside of an open doorway, and looked up on hearing the squad's approach.

Kasia smirked, "Hello Lillian."

Lillian shook her head, speaking with a maternal tone, "Is it too much for me to ask that you try to not get into a fight with Victoria?"

"You might try asking her not to draw her blade first," Kasia smirked as she walked by.

Lillian left the wall and walked up to her side, "I was close enough to overhear you baiting her into a confrontation."

Kasia rounded on her friend, "And what would you have me do, Lillian? Sit there and listen to her? I am not going to stomach a threat, and if you're so concerned, you might try stopping her the next time!"

"Kasia," Lillian flinched, "you don't have to yell, I'm right here. Look, I'm sorry I didn't defend Yushchenka from her all those years ago, but I can't change that now. Victoria may not be the nicest person, but she is still on your side. You should at least attempt to make amends with Victoria before one of you takes thing to another level. Don't let your thirst for revenge make you take it out on the wrong people."

"I'm not making amends to anyone," Kasia nearly whispered back as they passed a pair of well-armored guards. "I'm tired of putting up with injustices and taunts. If you saw your best friend killed before your eyes, what would you want to do?"

Lillian shook her head as they stopped, out-of-earshot of any guards, "Kasia, you have to move on from that. You told me Prince Alexander promised to bring his mother to justice, no?"

Kasia felt her blood pressure rising at the very mention of Alexander's name, "I should trust in a man who fears his mother and does nothing better than procrastinate? Alexander made that promise over a week ago, and as yet I've heard nothing about his mother going to trial. Alexander may be brilliant, but he's hopeless when it comes to taking action. No, my dear Lillian, I am not going to place my hope in Alexander's justice. Only royals can make a case against a sovereign, so Queen Anna's not only going to go free, but she's going to walk around without so much as a scratch on her in consequence."

"If you're going to harbor that much anger over it, you should at least take it out on the front lines where it will be appreciated," Lillian suggested. "I'm sorry about Yushchenka, but please don't get yourself killed with your tongue. These walls have ears of their own."

Kasia sighed and changed subject as they continued walking again, "I appreciate your advice, Lillian. Is something wrong? You look a little pale."

"I have not been feeling well in the mornings recently," Lillian admitted as Kasia opened a door that led into a grand hall.

Kasia paused as she noticed the lavishly dressed and armored guardsmen lining this hall, which ended in an enormous wooden door.

"I'm sure it will pass in time if you get enough rest, Lillian," Kasia replied as she took a look around.

The hall was lit by enormous arched windows separated by ornate sandstone columns on the right side. On both sides of the hall were marble busts of former generals and leaders from centuries and millennia prior. Dangling from the ceiling were countless crystal chandeliers of exquisite beauty, while mirrors lined the hall's left wall and gave the scene a surreal edge.

"So this is the Hall of Warriors," Bastia murmured, "I've always wondered what this place looked like. My older brothers used to talk about coming here."

Lillian ignored this and instead stated, "There is one other problem."

Kasia frowned, "Yes?"

Lillian eyes stared straight into hers, "James is requesting a transfer out of my squad and I can't get him to reconsider."

Kasia gaped in confusion a moment, "Wait, James, James Havel, the James I knew?"

Lillian kept up the eerie stare, "Who else? Did he say anything about a transfer to you?"

_You think you're being clever about this Lillian, but if you wanted to accuse me of convincing James he had to leave you, I would have to meet him again. _

"Lillian, I haven't even seen James in five years, and I only saw you this past week. I didn't even know he was still alive until I saw you," Kasia reminded.

Lillian only murmured in reply, "I suppose that's true. I'll leave you to your business here then. It was nice to see you once more."

"You as well," Kasia answered, affectionately patting Lillian on the shoulder.

Lillian nodded and then walked towards the door whence they had come. Given Lillian's voluptuous frame, it was not all too shocking to find Andrei, Josef and Lewis had their eyes glued to her behind. This however was about to be noticed by Lewis' paramour, Katja.

"Men, come on, eyes forward," Kasia tskked. "That includes you, Lewis."

With visible reluctance the three managed to divert their attention from Lillian's posterior and back to the matter at hand, although Lewis was trying to act innocent at the scathing look of disapproval coming his way from the brown-skinned Katja Tymoshenko.

The squad walked up the corridor until they at last came to the grand door at the hall's end. It had an enormous brass knocker in the shape of a lion holding a ring, the door itself appearing to be made of maple. There were four guards to either side, one of whom was a male silver-eyed warrior of statuesque build. He was of Siyamese descent, and much like Poniatowski, had kept his hair cropped short. He looked them over carefully as they approached.

"We're here to see the Field Marshal," Bastia explained.

The warrior was brief, "Names?"

"Dowódca Kasia Romanowa, the warriors Bastia Romanowa, Andrei-"

"You and the Princess may enter; the rest of you will have to stay outside. Before you enter you must turn over all weapons to my comrades," the Siyamese slayer stated.

Kasia and Bastia entered the antechamber, the sandstone surfaces of which reflected upon the gleaming, pristine, multi-colored marble floor. Two more silver-eyed guards stood by the door, their armor remarkably similar to Bastia's. Both patted them down before agreeing that they had no weapons upon them. Kasia though in their place would not have missed the fact that armor in itself can be a weapon. An armored fist could just as easily kill a man as a dagger.

The warriors opened the doors to reveal a gray-haired man of modest proportions scribbling on a sheet of vanilla paper. He was seated at a desk of suitably large proportions for the rank of his office, which was itself carved into the desk's front. An upper line read "Naczelnego Wodza", while a lower line read "Alianckich Armii". The words meant "Chief, Allied Army." But at the moment the man those words described didn't seem bothered to spare them even a glance.

"Orders for Nguyen; tell him I want Trentino protected at all costs. If he decides it necessary, he can employ a scorched earth policy with my full authorization," Poniatowski said to a younger male aide.

The aide nodded and rushed off with the orders out a side door. Kasia looked around the large office, which was impressive. A stained glass window of men fighting Dragonkin dominated it, the light spilling into the room from behind Poniatowski. A massive chandelier dangled from the ceiling, hundreds of candles burning and adding their light. The walls were pure sandstone, while the floor was flawless marble. Several portraits and stuffed animal heads as trophies added to the room's décor.

Poniatowski almost seemed a midget against the sheer scale of his office, although he seemed perfectly at ease reading papers at his desk. A dark-skinned male slayer in armor flanked the well-groomed man, whose black and gold uniform made his authority abundantly clear.

Bastia frowned at the lack of greeting, "Sir?"

"You two are standing in a deeper pile of shit than you know," Poniatowski replied as he scribbled furiously, "Queen Anna is personally demanding that I stop vetoing her motion for the death penalty against you, Romanowa. I believe the charge is 'criminal conspiracy to seduce and dishonor a lawful royal heir'. The Comnenian Royal Family has also officially disowned you Bastia, so you no longer have the protection of your title. So here I am, with the two most powerful monarchs in our alliance baying for your blood."

Bastia gulped, but Kasia felt no fear. If Queen Anna and King Lech wanted her dead now, they'd have to kill her out in the open. She would be prepared sword and squad in hand, to take on anything they sent to kill her.

Poniatowski exploded in anger, "I warned you not to get involved with a Comnenian royal, and what the fucking hell did you do? You went and got engaged to the bastard!"

Bastia gawked, "Yushchenka said that on your orders?"

"Of course she said it at my request! Do you think I don't know what goes on in this city? The Grand Alliance is on our doorstep. They retook Kagano, are besieging Karbala, Trentino's under threat from a new offensive, the Luo Triarchy is bleating like a whore for more reinforcements, and you two have managed to piss off the most powerful royals left in our dwindling alliance. I was of half a mind to throw you to the wolves this morning."

"But you're not," Kasia observed.

Poniatowski turned very quiet as he walked up to them, "No… I have an end far more fitting for you two. The Comnenian royals want you dead, but I'm not of a mind to hand you over. You're going to the thickest of the fighting, where the blood pools deepest and I hope by the Gods you make the bastards pay dearly before you go."

Bastia snapped, berating Poniatowski with caustic sarcasm, "What about your beloved Katarzyna? Where's the justice in all this for her? You told me yourself you 'loved' her."

Poniatowski backhanded Bastia.

"NEVER question my fidelity to Katarzyna, or I swear by the Gods I will hand you over on a silver platter with an apple stuck in your mouth," Poniatowski warned as Bastia looked up in shock.

His voice turned low as he stared at them, "I will never forget what they did to my beloved. They took her head from her shoulders and then asked me to kill the person she died defending. Not a word of justice for my wife."

Kasia tilted her head, "Wife?"

Poniatowski circled around his desk and sat back down, "You think a man sticks with a woman for twenty years for nothing? It's too late for the bastards to punish me now; she's dead. Cagliari, bring in the uniforms."

Poniatowski's voice turned caustic and bitter, "But you see she's not even a person in their eyes. She's just a silver-eyed warrior, and they've got plenty more of those where she came from. Her killer may not face justice in this life, but I can do something for her memory."

As the Field Marshal waved a hand a gray-haired officer with a goatee entered carrying two sets of black and gold clothing.

"What in the world—"

Poniatowski interrupted Bastia, "Officers' uniforms for the two of you. Katarzyna dreamed of a day when her kind might have the privilege to command troops in the field."

Kasia shook her head, "Sir, when Queen Anna finds out—"

The Field Marshal laughed, "What's the bitch going to do that she hasn't already? I have the support of every other monarch on the Alliance Council. If she so much tries to remove me from office, our military will fall apart and her kingdom will be conquered by the Grand Alliance. Let her bluff all she wants; I'm not going anywhere."

"You're to be commissioned as a Lieutenant, Bastia. As for you, Romanowa, I've heard about how you managed to lead two squads out of an ambush by Iron Claws without casualties. You have more education than almost all my officers, and you're willing to do what others would not consider in order to win. Against the advice of my aides, I'm commissioning you as a Captain," the Field Marshal announced before pointing to two papers on his desk.

Kasia just managed to muster the words, "Sir, I don't know to thank you—"

"Well don't," Poniatowski rasped, "because you're going into the thick of things. I've assigned you to the 121st Infantry Regiment, which I've just received a report has been cut off from resupply near the town of Karbala. Providing Major Nyassi is still alive, you will help him get the men back to our lines."

Bastia rubbed the cheek where she'd been slapped, "And if he's not?"

"I'm sure Captain Romanowa might have a few ideas for the men when she reaches them," Poniatowski noted. "I don't have time for a ceremony; sign your papers and be gone. I'll have enough shit coming my way once word gets out. You will probably want to change your names so that the Comnenian queen won't catch on immediately. Sign with any name you wish, but remember, you will not be able to change it again."

He slid the papers towards her and Bastia, with everything filled out but their printed name and signatures.

Kasia filled out her commission paper quickly, as did Bastia alongside her. They slid their papers back to the Field Marshal, who turned them around to read.

His eyebrows arched when he read, "Bastia Romanowa. Not hiding I see."

His eyes narrowed when he read Kasia's, "What is the meaning of this?"

The tone was unequivocal and offended.

"It's not what you think," Kasia reassured, "You see there was a time in which I was not known by my nickname, Kasia. It's time I took up my true first name in honor of your late beloved and my father. From today on I wish to be known as Captain Katarzyna Romanowa."

* * *

The journey to Karbala went quickly enough. Finding the 121st proved trickier, as the regiment was already cut off and stranded behind enemy lines. However, given how hard it was to stop a concentrated move of eleven slayers, and they broke through and began the search. The men they captured pointed the way sure enough. The path it took them upon led to a scrubby, semi-arid, hilly region dotted with olive trees and the dead of war.

On the second day Bastia was the first to spot the encampment, remarkable only for the fact that it was still flying the blue flag with the golden stars of the Alliance of Nations. Major Nyassi was, as feared, already dead, having expired from the sweating sickness some three days prior. He had left behind some 640 men out of the 1000 he had started with, all growing hungrier and more desperate by the hour. Unfortunately their reception had quickly turned from one of rejoicing to disbelief when the troops were informed of their rank.

"The men won't follow a witch…even one with the Field Marshal's personal backing," the young, bronze-skinned lieutenant said firmly. "Now turn around and go back to whatever hellhole you came from. We don't need your help."

Bastia snarled, "You impudent little boy, you dare—"

Katarzyna interrupted, "That's enough, Lieutenant. I'll handle this myself."

A glance around the camp was enough to notice men without shoes, others in threadbare uniforms, some in dusty or rusty armor, and still others that seemed to lack much military discipline. Tents were set up haphazardly, and the fires burning around them were small, no doubt due to the dearth of nearby trees. The encampment sat atop a hill overlooking a valley, and at its end was a distant village and a sizable river surrounded by trees. A few men were genuinely energized by their arrival and curious enough to listen in; the others displayed the listlessness she had so often seen in men who had been defeated once too often.

Katarzyna shifted her armor and motioned around, "It doesn't look to me as if you don't need help, Lieutenant…"

"It's First Lieutenant Zintani," the man said darkly, "and I told you to be off already!"

Katarzyna gave the man a withering stare, "Tell me Lieutenant Zintani, do you know the precedent of rank? The Supreme Commander of the Allied Army personally commissioned me as an officer, and you answer to him just like I. Perhaps you do not wish to be insubordinate and court-martialed for your crimes, no?"

Zintani blanched as she folded her arms, "Call the remaining officers NOW!"

Zintani looked as if he were half of a mind to rebel, but he seemed to think otherwise as he glanced over the ten other slayers backing her. Zintani rushed off, calling out loudly for the remaining officers to join him. When he returned, another five lieutenants arrived, all of them very young but for a grizzled old veteran. The other officers seemed to defer to the older man, nodding as he sat down alongside them around a campfire.

_I win the veteran, I win them all to my side. _

She looked over the remaining six officers, "Gentlemen, I am Captain Katarzyna Romanowa. I was sent by Allied Army Command to report to Major Nyassi, but I can see he's already passed away. Before I assume command, I need to know the situation."

The veteran lieutenant, a man nearly forty years of age judging by his face, sat up after taking her measure, "I am First Lieutenant Rudolf Rasmussen, and I suppose since we've no captains left I would be the senior officer. The situation's as bad as it could be, Captain. At roll call this morning we had six-hundred and forty-three men, three of whom have since died. We are losing men to desertion every day. Some five thousand infantrymen are closing in on us from the east and will be here by tomorrow evening. In the north twenty thousand men from General Funihashi's army are moving towards the front. To the south, another fifteen thousand men from Lieutenant General von Wurms are in our way. Funihashi just cut us off with three thousand mercenaries to our west now encamped in the town of Anbar."

_Well that's a start; the old man's actually respecting my rank. _

"This situation is not as dire as you think," she noted.

Even some of the slayers in her squad, except Bastia, raised their eyebrows in reaction.

Rasmussen rose from his chair, "Captain, I am not sentencing my men to die in some kind of foolhardy escape plan. Our best course is surrender; we'd never be able to escape."

"The bitch is crazy anyways," Zintani remarked, rebellious once more.

Bastia was fast in correcting this, knocking the young man off his feet with a spectacular swing of her massive blade, hitting him with the flat side and knocking him out. At once the other officers cried out and jumped to their feet.

Rasmussen yelled, "What is the meaning of this—"

Bastia planted a foot on the unconscious Zintani, "Should another of you so much as speak another insult against the Captain, let this be a reminder of the consequences."

Rasmussen was clearly offended, "You aren't going to intimidate the men into—"

"I was not considering anything of the sort," Katarzyna interrupted, "Bastia, sheathe your blade. I apologize if my subordinate is over-aggressive with discipline, but I will not tolerate insults to my rank. You said trying to escape is foolhardy. I agree."

Rasmussen's brow furrowed as more of his men walked up to watch, "Then what do you plan on doing? Escaping and leaving us to our fates?"

Katarzyna got up and began speaking loud enough for the men to hear, "On the contrary, Lieutenant, I plan on saving the honor of the 121st."

Rasmussen's curiosity finally overwhelmed his skepticism, "How?"

Katarzyna began her address as men began to crowd around, "Soldiers of the 121st, you are ill-fed, little-paid, and half naked. Our alliance owes you everything and can give you nothing in return. You have shown patience and courage, but it will win you no renown atop this hill; no glory will come to you for your enduring the unendurable."

The men were listening more intently with each passing second.

"It is my intention to lead you against the mercenaries in Anbar. They have grown rich, fat and lazy from plundering our lands and taking your women! Tonight they are hosting a great feast in anticipation of their victory over you tomorrow. It will not happen! Tonight, while they are drunk, disorganized and unaware, we will march down to Anbar and give them a beating they will never forget!"

For once some cheers broke out amongst the men.

Katarzyna added some gestures for effect as she continued, "My warriors will take out their sentries, and you will smash your way through their camp and rout them! I promise if you serve under me, greater armies will soon be in your power, their wealth, honor, and glory yours for the taking. Soldiers of the Alliance! Will you be lacking in courage or endurance?"

The acclaim was unanimous.

* * *

Dietrich had to admit she was impressed by the way Katarzyna Romanowa had handled the situation as she listened to the empress tell the story. She was still in the imperial gardens with her superior, and had lost track of time. Her mind was still recovering from the shock of realizing, too late, that the 'mere princess' ordering her around was in fact the empress in disguise. Katarzyna Romanowa and Kasia Romanowa were in fact the same person.

Dietrich folded her gloved hands together atop her red dress, "Can I assume you won the fight, Your Majesty?"

The Cesarzowa laughed as she put her enormous four-pointed hat with diamonds and gold atop her head, "Would I be talking with you now if I hadn't, Countess?"

"No," Dietrich answered solemnly, realizing her question had been pointless.

The Cesarzowa patted Dietrich's knee, "It wasn't really a fight against those mercenaries. No one had ever used slayers to suppress sentries before, but it worked magnificently. When the men hit them at midnight, their commander was so surprised we caught him whoring and obliviously drunk to reality. Almost all of his men died, were captured, or drowned in the nearby river trying to escape us. As Audrey used to tell me, 'the rest is history'."

"Why did you seek to disguise yourself, Majesty?"

Katarzyna smiled, "I'm sure a smart girl like you can piece it together. Tell me Dietrich, if you were me, why would you have done it?"

_Does she know how much a part of me longs to be her when she asks like that? _

There was no hint in the Cesarzowa's veiled eyes.

Dietrich sat up and paced, thinking, "Well, if I were the Cesarzowa, I can better judge my suitors' character if I know the kind of people serving them. In order to observe their servants' true nature, I cannot see them as Cesarzowa. People are much more genuine when they feel they aren't being watched. If I wanted to observe them personally, I would need to find a role that made it possible to be near them on a daily basis."

Katarzyna clapped, "Very well done. Colonel Tusk said you had a talent at analyzing things, and I see he was not wrong. Before you go, I will need my sister's journal you're hiding down your right sleeve."

Dietrich couldn't resist the urge to ask, "How'd you know?"

"I knew you were going to take it before you did take it," the Cesarzowa replied. "You see my dear Countess, understanding a person is one skill a general needs above all. If I couldn't figure out others, there is no way I could have lured in the Grand Alliance to fatally over-commit at the battle of Liberec."

Dietrich handed back the journal to the Cesarzowa, whose full height made her feel more than a little bit short.

The Cesarzowa began to walk off when she paused and turned, "There was also some disturbing news from your home island this morning, Countess."

Dietrich's heartbeat soared, "What's happened?"

* * *

"I still don't understand what Ruud was doing," Helen sighed, looking over to Renee. "Just what is a parliament anyways?"

Renee leaned over the tavern table, face earnest and serious, "I think it's something he learned about from the Bretonese Ambassador."

They were seated in a crowded tavern in southern Rabona, one of the few parts of the old city to escape the flames. The tavern was lit by several large chandeliers of candles overhead and immense windows at either end of the stone-walled establishment. It was just enough light to accentuate the armor that they were both wearing.

Helen shook her head and spoke with audible disgust, "Bretonese. The damn world keeps getting more complicated. First it was the Romanow Empire and the Grand Alliance, now we've got a bunch of merchant lords called the Bretonese and Haaraleenese mucking it up even more. The worst part is the denials. The Romanowans insist it was the Grand Alliance that took the Organization documents, and that was AFTER we found out one of our battalions had been bribed off with huge stacks of their currency."

Renee finished sipping her beer, "They claimed it was the Grand Alliance."

"Like hell it was," Helen scoffed, "everybody knows they had ample reason."

Helen began rapidly downing a beer while Renee paused before responding.

Renee sighed, "At least I hear this vaunted empress of theirs really smashed the Grand Alliance. I hope it's true; we can't afford a quarter of Rabona to go up in flames again. The only thing that makes me worry is she wants all of our Organization prisoners given over."

Helen accidentally inhaled a little beer down the wrong pipe upon hearing this, gagging and hacking until Renee rushed over to smack her upon the back.

Helen hacked and gasped for breath before snapping, "Hell, why don't you tell me these things when I'm not drinking something?"

Renee shrugged as she sat down; returning to her seat, "Don't blame me for that."

Helen interrogated, "So, what did Miria say?"

Renee shook her head, "Ruud van Willems said it wasn't her call since he's acting Lord Mayor. He refused to release them, which I can tell you didn't go down well. The Romanowans seem to think we won't be able hold onto them, and I'm not sure I can disagree after someone sprung Dae Prado from prison. Claire, I'm surprised to see you out and about."

Helen turned to find Claire in black maternity clothes and failed to stifle a laugh, "You're in maternity clothes already? What'd ya do, swell five inches in a night?"

Claire ignored the ribbing as she sat down, "Renee, do you know when they're holding the first session of parliament? Ruud asked Raki to attend as a southern Rabona representative."

Helen shook her head, "What's to decide? The last thing we need are a bunch of politicians mucking up this island even more. Pure connerie."

Claire tensed at the curse, "It is not bullshit. The man may be an adulterer, but he's got the common sense to know power comes from a mandate from the masses, not from the Gods."

It took all of Helen's self-control not to slap Claire in retaliation for mentioning her affair with Ruud. Instead of responding she merely ruminated and gave Claire an icy stare.

Renee intervened, "Look you two, insults won't help. I understand we need the people to back a new government, so who better than Miria to lead it?"

"You mean who better than Miria to be Reina," Claire corrected.

Helen snapped, "Reina, Queen, whatever you translate the title to, Miria deserves it more than anyone else, and everyone knows she could handle it. We both know Queen Violetta's going to try to put her son back on our empty throne the moment she can find foreign backers. Who's better than Miria to de-legitimize Violetta's claim to the throne?"

"All the more reason to rid ourselves of it and proclaim a republic," Claire countered, "No more elevating people above others, no more nobles being above the law or people thinking they have better blood than anyone else. That's what the people want."

Renee shook her head, "Are a bunch of illiterates with no cares for politics other than a good harvest and stability really the ones you want to put in charge? How are uneducated people supposed to make a decision about such a thing?"

Claire sniffed in disagreement, "You underestimate the people, and don't think for a moment that Miria can solve all your problems. She nearly got killed during the coup and—"

Helen interjected, "And you and Raki both got sedated along with Galatea by a spy in your house, and after that Rubel came in and nearly killed you and your children. Portrait of competence, that."

Claire jumped to her feet, "I am not going to sit here and hear you hurl insults at me!"

"I was just returning the favor, Claire," Helen murmured before downing another beer.

The nearest portion of the tavern went silent as many of the customers looked over in surprise and unease. Renee rushed onto the table between the two of them, holding up her arms to defuse the situation.

"Helen, Claire, come on, you used to be such great friends, let's just calm down and stop the insults over politics," Renee urged.

It took Helen a few seconds of staring down Claire before folding with a sigh, "Fine."

Claire however did not help matters, "I know you are both dedicated to making Miria our Reina, but I will never accept her taking the throne."

Several of the nearby customers were listening in intently now.

Renee, in disbelief, asked a simple question, "Why?"

"Because she's not the same Miria I once knew. This new Miria cares more about her wealth and her titles than she does about the common people. She's grown arrogant and power-hungry, and you've both been blind to it."

Helen shook her head in disbelief, "Miria saves Rabona from King Charles twice and this is how you thank her; by calling her a monster. Can you even hear yourself?"

"I was not calling her a monster, I was saying that she's not the pure-hearted girl we once knew," Claire clarified. "Do you remember when we first met Miria, Helen? She was a pure-hearted girl, and we knew her simply as "Phantom" Miria. She was unpretentious, she was smart, and she cared about everyone."

Helen sarcastically mocked, "Is there some point to this?"

"There will be one if I can finish," Claire shot back.

Helen didn't bother replying.

"You need look no further than Miria's name and titles," Claire declared, "to see how she's changed. First she was just "Phantom Miria, the No. 6. Later she took command of our expedition and became Captain Miria. She held onto that title long after the mission had ended and it had become meaningless."

Helen hissed, "Meaningless to you, maybe, but not to me, and you seem to forget that if not for Miria we'd all be dead."

Claire ignored this and kept talking to Renee, "You'll remember she insisted on claiming command and being named 'Colonel Miria' when she came to Rabona."

"I didn't see you there helping save Rabona," Helen shot back.

"I saved it from Miria awakening," Claire coldly reminded. "And it was not long before that when she condoned a coup and was then known as Major General Beauharnais. When she married Cid, she insisted she was honorary nobility by being his wife, so suddenly she was Countess Miria Victoire Beauharnais Malaga. Not long afterwards she was promoted and became Lieutenant General Malaga, and most recently she's been known as General Miria Malaga, Countess of Ile de poires."

"All of it deservingly earned," Renee pointed out. "And that coup was necessary, or else we would not be here talking to you. The church asked us to commit military suicide for the sake of their beliefs; we could not simply obey that."

"Perhaps not, but explain to me something, Renee. If Miria could not legally serve in the Army and become a noble, how was it she married Cid and became a Countess DESPITE serving in the army? Ruud van Willems said she demanded an exception to those rules. But of course Miria is special, so I guess the rules don't apply to her, eh?"

"Fuck you, Claire," Helen shot back.

Claire rested her head upon her hands, "Striking a nerve, am I? I almost forgot about your precious diamond mine."

Renee sounded agitated this time, "We persevered and made a smart choice of where—"

Claire sniffed in polite disbelief, "Not one of you, Miria included, have any expertise in mining. You lucked out and now you're trying to claim you all deserve the wealth that's fallen onto you. Not one of you has donated a cent to charity, and now that you've become so fabulously fortunate you want to put Miria on a shining throne and ignore the people. Well I won't sit by and watch it happen, which is why it won't while I still draw breath."

"Oh come on Claire," Renee said, exasperated, "what was I supposed to do while on duty? I can't start up charities when I'm fighting for our country."

Helen however wasn't feeling so repentant, "I'm not going to apologize for my fortune to you Claire, and neither should you, Renee. The only reason this is coming up is because Claire's jealous. She's jealous of us, jealous of what we've been able to accomplish, and most of all jealous that it was Miria saving the day and not her."

"I don't care about that," Claire said in an icy tone, "what I care about is this country having a good future. Most of all, what I want is my old friend back, not the power-hungry person Miria has become. All I see of her now is a Countess that disguises her true nature under fine words and then secretly funds a group to make her Queen of Toulouse. Tell me Helen, where has our dear, plain old "Phantom" Miria gone?"

Helen's heart nearly froze when Miria's voice answered in an icy tone, "Maybe if you turned around you might see her."

* * *

Natalie was wearing her Holy Day best dress, colored green and white, as she happily skipped along. She was in southern Rabona, and had just arrived outside Claire and Raki's house. It was a modest two-story structure they'd recently bought, as they'd sold their old place on the Ile de poires to Anastasia and three of her friends.

Their new house had a steep gable roof, was jammed in alongside many other homes of similar proportions, and it, like the others, featured white walls and flowerboxes in the windows. Petunias were blooming and giving the quaint house an especially nice look in Natalie's opinion.

She clambered up the steps to the dark green door and knocked.

A moment later it unlocked and a maidservant appeared, "Bonjour, puis-je vous aider?"

Natalie smiled at the older woman's nonchalance, "Oui. My name is Natalie Malaga. I'm here to look after the twins while Claire and Raki are out at church."

The graying maid smiled, "Oh, I've been expecting you. Victor and Teresa have been looking forward to you coming all morning. Let me call them. Victor, Teresa, your sitter is here! Come on and greet Lady Malaga!"

Natalie heard the twins before she saw them, for suddenly there was a flurry of footfalls upstairs, and then suddenly the toddlers were rushing down the stairs. Teresa decided that taking the stairs would take too long, so instead she jumped and slid down the banister. Unfortunately her audacity was not matched by her balance.

Natalie yelled out in alarm, "No, Teresa, get off of that!"

The wavy-haired toddler's blue dress caught on a section of the bannister's underside and tore, but not before sending the silver-eyed girl flying head-first. She landed likewise, and began tumbling end-over-end down the stairs.

Natalie rushed and caught Teresa before she landed on her head once more. It didn't do much good though; the toddler had already started to cry hysterically and her brother, as was typical of kids his age, joined in sympathetically. Natalie's ears were soon ringing as their chorus of cries and screams joined together.

"You are such a lucky girl," Natalie sighed, checking over Teresa's head for blood, "you could be bleeding all over from that!"

This didn't do much to mollify the screaming girl, who was kicking, screaming and crying her eyes out at a prodigious rate even as Natalie held her. The maidservant was doing likewise with Victor, but it didn't seem to help.

Natalie tried to soothe her, "Come on, here, let me rub the pain anyway, isn't that better?"

Despite several minutes of attempting to calm down the situation, Teresa was still crying and sucking her thumb minutes later. Natalie was busy wiping away Victor's tears when the

the house's door opened to reveal Raki in his Holy Day best, breathless. He looked relieved to see the twins were not badly injured. Natalie handed Teresa off to her father, which led to a dramatic end of her crying.

Claire walked in next in her black maternity dress, wearing an unhappy expression as Raki asked over the din, "What happened?"

"Teresa decided she wanted to slide down the banister," Natalie sighed.

Claire snapped, "You let this happen?"

Natalie was surprised by the vehemence, "I didn't mean to, I just got here and—"

Claire bellowed, "Out!"

Raki was taken by surprise, "Claire, darling, I doubt—"

Claire was not having any of it, "I said out this moment! You are not to be allowed near my children ever again!"

Within moments Natalie found herself unceremoniously flung out and the door slammed on her. She couldn't bear to spare the house a second glance; the tears of shame and humiliation were too much to stop. Eventually she sat down on a street corner and sobbed.

"It wasn't my fault," she sobbed.

People gave her a wide berth; silver-eyed warriors were known to have dangerous tempers in both rage and sadness. There she sat contemplating, ruminating, and sniffling on the morning's events until a fellow warrior happened upon her.

"Oh dear, what's wrong?"

Natalie cleared the tears away with a hand enough to see leather-suited Anastasia looming over her, a concerned look upon her face.

"Claire's fired me because Teresa slid down a banister before I could stop her and hurt herself," Natalie sniffled, bitter and sad. "How was I supposed to stop her? I only just arrived! It wasn't like I was at the top of the stairs!"

Anastasia sighed, "Don't blame yourself, Natalie. I'm sure Claire overreacted."

"How do you know? Maybe I really am a terrible sitter and—"

Anastasia hoisted Natalie to her feet, "Honestly girl, you take it out on yourself too much. If you must know why Claire was in such a bad mood, it was because of your mother."

The look on Anastasia's face was alarming, "What's happened?"

"Claire apparently was talking to Helen and Renee and somehow they got into politics."

"Let me guess, Helen got into a big argument. Mom keeps warning her not to get into it with other claymores," Natalie sighed as Anastasia led her onwards through the busy streets of southern Rabona.

"Well, you see, apparently your mother's name came up and Claire was not very complimentary," Anastasia diplomatically noted. "Helen and Renee wouldn't drop the matter, and so your mom walked in on Claire calling her a power-hungry, greedy woman who didn't give a damn for the people or something like that."

Natalie's mouth opened in disbelief, "Claire wouldn't say something like that, I mean, weren't my mom and her best friends and comrades for years?"

"Apparently Claire thinks your mom is getting far too powerful and wealthy. Your mother isn't exactly the thickest-skinned of claymores, so she took it badly. The two of them having a political fight now is really disturbing."

Natalie frowned, "Why?"

"The parliament is meeting in days, and unless the factions that your mother and Claire belong to can agree, things could get really ugly," Anastasia explained.

* * *

It was just like every dream he'd been having lately; it started in darkness.

"James, wake up," a familiar female voice said as he felt a nudge.

His eyes opened to find what his eyes judged to be a pair of magnificent tits before him. He looked up to find their owner, a bemused, completely nude, strawberry blond claymore lying on a bed covered in furs. She held up her head with one arm while the other arm languidly and suggestively slid down the rest of her body. A glance around found him similarly unclothed, his sword at the foot of the bed alongside his companion's. There was no window in the room, which looked like a seedy hotel. Instead a crude iron chandelier overhead lit the room with a score of much depleted candles. He eventually recognized it as a ship cabin from the gentle swaying of the floor.

James came to a realization, "Oh hell, I need to get going."

"James, wait," Lillian implored.

She caught him with both arms and pressed her pleasurably warm body against his, her breasts in particular stirring his lust.

"We already coupled four times last night," Lillian reasoned. "So why leave?"

"I'm sinning, and just because I've sinned already doesn't mean I should add to it," James said, fighting his urges as Lillian began lightly kissing his neck.

"James, James, James," Lillian tutted, "what are we going to do about your sense of morality? It's all off. Your instincts are to let your cock take you wherever it leads, and then after doing the deed your head gets this funny idea that you should ask forgiveness for what comes naturally. The Gods created you the way you are, why condemn yourself for it?"

James knocked off Lillian's arms and turned on her, "What sort of man am I being sneaking around on Kasia and doing this? The Gods teach us that to commit adultery is one of the great sins. I'll be sent to purgatory at the least when I die for this!"

Lillian laughed as she grabbed a cup of wine, "James, take my advice; quit tying yourself in knots trying to appease these Gods of yours. You should follow another God, not one trying to make you deny your true nature. I follow Amorien, the Goddess of Desire. She's not led me astray during my adventures. To make love is to pledge one's faith to the Goddess. She's an ideal Goddess for a man who acts with his member and regrets with his head."

"I am not converting into a believer of Amorien," James said, adamant.

Lillian clasped his hand in hers, "But you follow her tenets, or else you wouldn't have visited all those whorehouses over the years."

"I know I'm a hypocrite," James said bitterly, "but I can't just let down Kasia—"

Lillian leaned back and flicked a bit of hair out of her eyes, "Just what is it Kasia's done for you to deserve your adulation? Has she reciprocated your lust and love for her? Does she get you presents for your birthday? A relationship is supposed to be a two-way affair. So tell me James, what has she ever done for you?"

Lillian grinned as he stuttered, "Well, she…she sympathized with me about my…mistreatment…in Noir's squad. She helps me with…"

Lillian shook her head as her bushy eyebrows rose, "Is that all you can come up with?"

James felt flustered and defensively snapped, "There's more, it's just I…"

"I should have known; you're one of those men that always lusts after the hardest-to-obtain women," Lillian sighed. "I cannot pretend to be perfect in your eyes with regards to my habits with men," Lillian noted, referencing her polygamous nature, "but, no matter how high a pedestal you put Kasia on, she will never be the perfect woman you imagine her. I may have more flaws, but at least I'm willing to give you something in return."

Lillian caused his heart to flutter when she pulled his hand in to feel her right breast, "What Kasia doesn't know won't hurt her, and besides, I know you want me, and I want you. She has three new Dragonkin hatchlings to take care of with Rima and no time for you on the journey back to Visegrad. A man like you cannot hold back his true nature for long waiting for a slayer who fears her own lust. Even as we speak I can see the Goddess' faith is stirring in your loins. She wants you to join your body with mine as it was meant to be."

Lillian wrapped both arms around him and kissed him on the neck. He couldn't hold back any longer and soon the two of them fell onto the fur-lined bed. He groped and massaged Lillian's breasts as she in turn wrapped her legs around his waist. With a simple thrust their bodies joined, and soon enough he forgot all about his sins and concentrated solely on enjoying the moment.

Lillian gasped, "James."

The voice was not Lillian's. Suddenly he snapped back to reality to find himself in the midst of making love to a chesty, dark-skinned girl. James stopped in his confusion.

"What's the matter, did I not satisfy?"

_Oh Gods, what's wrong with me? Did I start screwing Xerina while I was dreaming? _

Xerina was the 19-year old maid he'd hired to clean his new home, which he'd bought in Visegrad once the capital had moved back there permanently a few weeks ago. He'd selected Xerina to be his small manor's maid based on nothing but looks and an eagerness to please. At one time he would have worried about the money, but the Cesarzowa knew how to reward her protectors. He didn't often have much time to spend at home, especially recently, but he found having hired help had its bonuses. Just like Lillian had always said, no matter how much he tried to be a good, faithful man, he still acted with his cock and regretted with his head.

"It's nothing to do with you," James said as he caught his breath, "I thought I was dreaming until a moment ago and got startled when I woke up."

He was sitting atop the petite Xerina in his huge white canopy bed. The morning light was coming in from an oval window, the silhouette of the imperial palace framed against the glare of the rising sun. He found himself wearing what he'd worn to bed: a sash around his belly to conceal his scars there. Xerina's purple nightgown in contrast had been flung onto the hardwood floor nearby.

Xerina reached up and pulled him down into her warm embraces, "It is a blessing from the Goddess of Desire. She wishes you to make love to me."

_A blessing? Since when is being unaware of what you're doing ever been a blessing? Hell, even when I'm aware of what I'm doing it seems I can't control my urges. I want to settle down with a woman I can't have, but I also want every hot woman I can get my arms around. I've been cursed with the gift of a conscience and the 'blessing of Amorien' at the same time! _

James rested his head atop Xerina's ample chest, "Xerina, am I a desirable man?"

Xerina held up his head to look straight into her big blue eyes, "Of course you are, Master. You are a respected and handsome member of the Silver Guard, and Silver Guards are legendary heroes and make hordes of money. What girl wouldn't desire a wealthy hero?"

"I suppose you have a point," James agreed, although he felt anything but heroic.

_What the hell has the world come to when I'm considered a catch? _

Xerina kissed him lightly on the cheek, "I am glad to have found a Master that is such a strong believer in the Goddess of Desire. Come; let us make the Goddess an offering."

James had never known a day when he could say no to sex, and today was no different. He grasped Xerina, turned her around, and held her upright. She knew by now what he wanted, and simply fell down upon him.

As she continued their passion grew hotter, his lust more ardent, and her womanhood ever more accommodating. Xerina turned to kiss him, but soon after locking lips she could not manage. She began to pant, something that was difficult to emulate given his conditioning. Finally, dissatisfied with his relative passivity, he grasped her by the hips and ploughed into her.

He was just about to get to the best part when a loud knock came on the door.

"Lieutenant Commander Havel," an elderly man's voice interrupted, "there's a man here claiming he must speak with you urgently regarding an investigation."

"Tell him I'm busy, Javier," James shouted back.

Javier walked off, his footfall audible through the door.

Xerina gasped as James got down to what he wanted and her sweat-covered legs clasped tightly about his waist and her breasts swayed back in forth in rhythm with him. About a minute later he heard shouting coming up the stairs.

"The Lieutenant Commander is not to be disturbed," Javier objected in his Sevillan accent. "You must go downstairs and wait for him!"

"Bloody hell," James muttered as he pulled off Xerina.

A familiar male voice countered, "This is no time for protocol. Havel, get your ass dressed! We have an investigation to discuss, and it can't wait!"

It was Jaroslaw Tusk's voice, and Tusk made himself doubly hard to ignore by loudly rapping on the bedroom's large double doors.

"I'm bloody hurrying, just give me a minute," James bellowed.

Xerina whispered, "Where should I hide?"

James picked up her nightgown, threw it at her, and nodded towards underneath the bed. He meanwhile got his underwear and pants on in the nick of time. Jaroslaw Tusk barged into the room despite Javier trying to hold the larger man back. Xerina had only just managed to get her nightgown on and was caught flat-footed on top of James' bed.

"Tell the wench to leave," Tusk motioned with a hand, "we've business to discuss."

James motioned to Xerina, who hurriedly and in obvious embarrassment left the room. A moment later Javier, James' butler, closed the door. James pulled out a white shirt out of a drawer and put it on as the well-dressed Colonel Tusk folded his arms. He was wearing a black uniform with gold braid that James knew marked a high-level military officer.

"I swear you never change man," Jaroslaw said, shaking his head.

James sat down on the bed and sighed, "Just don't tell her, alright?"

Jaroslaw shook his head, "Too late for that, soldier. She already knows about you and your little Chicas. Your darling Cesarzowa is not as ignorant of your dalliances as you hoped."

That was unsettling news that hit him hard.

"Oh for the sake of the Gods, man, you had to know that was half the reason you weren't on her list," Tusk whispered. "A Cesarzow who can't keep it in his pants isn't going to work well with a Cesarzowa known for her fidelity. Anyways, I need your personal files on the palace assassination attempt."

It was an abrupt transition down to business which James expected of Katarzyna's favorite spy. He was almost as to the point as Romanowa.

James got the keys out of a locked cabinet and then walked over to a chest with two keyholes near the window. He used both at once to unlock the gold-gilded chest, which opened to reveal a cache of papers. He sorted through some of them, a few papers, like his personal reservation papers for the Capital's Geisha agency, were more than a little embarrassing.

Finally he found his papers, which James handed over to Tusk. Jaroslaw looked them over with care as James buttoned up his shirt.

James asked, "Has something happened?"

"The Cesarzowa found out about the investigation Rima ordered and wanted a more comprehensive one done by me," Tusk noted.

_Is there nothing I do that leaves Katarzyna satisfied? The investigation dead-ended because there was no evidence to point at anybody but Raftela. _

"Thanks for your time," Jaroslaw murmured as he sorted through the papers.

Jaroslaw Tusk left as quickly as he came in, leaving James flustered as he sat down on his closed chest.

"_You made the choice, James. You could have chosen me and saved your honor, but you chose her. You took Katarzyna's quick and easy path out, and now there is not a deed you can do to atone for the sins your 'beloved' Cesarzowa has committed. And what's your reward for saving her life? You're a glorified bodyguard with no prospects of marrying her!" _

Even now Lillian's words had a way of haunting him.

_Was Lillian right and Katarzyna wrong? Would we have really lost the war if I had sided with Lillian? _

Even as he asked himself the question James knew deep in his heart that he would never know the answer. He had made an irreversible choice, and he could never take it back.

"_I curse you as a traitor and a sinner for the rest of your days." _

_I curse your bloody idealism, Lillian. Katarzyna wanted you to side with her. If you'd only taken her up on the offer, I might be enjoying a lot more company. _

Even as he thought it he knew it was pure fantasy. Katarzyna would have left him before it could ever happen. She was always jealous of her attention, which made her utterly unlike the free-loving Lillian, who didn't seem to have a jealous bone in her body. In fact, it had been his jealousy that had driven them apart. Lillian had been seeing several male officers by the time he'd finally had enough and demanded a transfer.

_I would have given anything to have had both of you in the same bed. Then I would never have strayed from anyone. _

"_A man who cannot stay faithful deserves all the purgatory he shall endure." _

Katarzyna's words echoed in his mind as Xerina and a taller, brown-skinned maid named Sarita walked back into the room in their green and white maid uniforms. Each had an especially low-cut top that showed her ample cleavage just the way he liked it.

Xerina asked, "Master Havel, may I dust the room now?"

_You know what? If I'm going to purgatory or hell for my sins anyways, I might as well go with a smile on my face. _

James walked to the double doors, closed them, and then locked them.

Sarita looked nervous, "Are you alright, Master?"

"_Your darling Cesarzowa is not as ignorant of your dalliances as you hoped." _

James resisted the urge to bite his lip. When he'd fallen in love with Katarzyna Romanowa, she'd been a sympathetic and impressionable 15-year-old nicknamed Kasia. Now she was a dominating 27-year old empress. Deep down he couldn't help but wonder what had happened to his darling Kasia.

_Screw it all, if she doesn't want me, why should I live my life by her whims? Lillian was right; I do want the impossible. I might as well have some fun in life before Lillian's soul comes to take me down to the Underworld. _

James grasped the girls about their waists, "I've decided that since I'm off today we're dedicating it to your favorite goddess."

* * *

"I swear to you, Dietrich, if I hear Lewis and Katja bitch about Havel's debauchery one more time, I'm going to go nuts," Jaroslaw complained.

She was seated upon her small manor's balcony with her much taller boyfriend, the Cesarzowa's favorite spy, Jaroslaw Tusk. He was a handsome enough man, although like many girls Dietrich would have preferred his face had not come with a hawkish nose. Ironically enough, due to having to work, they'd both wound up wearing variations of the empire's black with gold military officers' uniforms.

The Cesarzowa had insisted that the both of them be involved in the investigation of her attempted assassination. Like the prior one under Havel, it had gone nowhere. Worse, certain comrades took it as an opportunity to endlessly complain about Havel's lifestyle choices, which they viewed as somehow intertwined with his failed investigation. It got old after about a minute, but thankfully now the rest of the team had left the manor. It left the two of them mercifully away from tiring company.

Jaroslaw sat down in a wooden chair nearby and stretched his legs out on the nearby stone railing, "I've known some hen-pecked slayers in my day, but Lewis takes the cake. He backs whatever his wife says and let's her do whatever she wants. Who knows though, maybe if things had gone differently he'd have won our fair ruler's heart. The Cesarzowa certainly doesn't seem to get along with more independent personalities."

"Lewis isn't intellectual enough to interest her," Dietrich scoffed. "But then again she's not marrying out of love, so it's not something that should matter much."

Dietrich was scarcely paying the conversation any attention. Her mind was focused on more worrisome matters much dearer to her heart.

Jaroslaw reached over and held her hand, "Dear, grab some sleep. You look like you're about to worry yourself to death."

"I wish I could. All I can think about is Rabona," Dietrich sighed. "How could it have come to that while I was away?"

Jaroslaw got up and wrapped his arms around her, "I know you're worried about your homeland, but Ambassador Tuluzy's assessments aren't always right and they're a month behind. You told the Cesarzowa yourself you didn't think it'd come to civil war."

Dietrich shook her head, "I told her what I hoped might happen, not what will. Miria's royalists versus Claire's republicans; it's as nightmarish a scenario I can imagine. Claire doesn't take orders from anybody and is absolutely uncompromising, while Miria likes being in charge and doesn't take well to opposition. Name me one good thing about them not being on speaking terms with each other!"

Jaroslaw scratched his chin, "They're not at each other's throats?"

"It's no time for jokes, Jaroslaw," Dietrich fumed. "If they don't come to a compromise, things could come to blows. God, it almost makes me sick."

Jaroslaw turned at once back to his more calculating, serious side, "If it came to blows, who would win?"

Dietrich closed her eyes, "I really don't want to think about it, Jaroslaw. Friends and relatives turning blades on each other is not something you 'theorize' on."

"Your other half was interested in knowing," Jaroslaw whispered into her ear.

Dietrich knew immediately he could only mean the Cesarzowa, the woman whose memories and feelings had transferred into her via a soul link. Jaroslaw, along with several others, had astutely noticed her personality sometimes shifted to one remarkably similar to the Cesarzowa's on a few occasions, leading to his naming her Dietrich's "other half".

She swallowed her disgust and thought for a moment, "I would put my money on Miria if I were betting. Claire likes to believe she's above politics, but she's not. Claire insisting Miria will never be queen while she draws breath is as political as it gets. The worst part was Claire insisting afterwards that she wasn't playing politics. Saying you're not playing politics only makes your actions seem more cynical."

Jaroslaw murmured, "You think Miria has been secretly supporting this Monarchist League like Claire alleged?"

It was a question Dietrich knew was related to Andrei Tuluzy's report. Dietrich had attended a meeting with Jaroslaw, the Cesarzowa, her Minister of War, Antoni Poniatowski, and the newly-appointed Foreign Minister, Anders Bergen. Andrei stated in his report that he believed Miria to be behind the Monarchist League, which was secretly founded by her adopted daughter, Natalie, alongside Helen, Tabitha and a number of other comrades. It was devoted to making Miria a queen, and had recently been legalized by the new Lord Mayor, Ruud van Willems, who desperately needed more of Miria's political supporters' backing.

"No," Dietrich said flatly.

Jaroslaw tilted his head in slight disbelief, "No?"

Dietrich crossed her arms and looked out on the faint silhouette of Visegrad at night, "I know Phantom Miria; Miria likes power being handed to her because she deserves it, and she's not the type of person that would seize power. Andrei can believe she's behind it all he wants, but I disagree. If Miria were behind the Monarchist League, it would never have been exposed the way it has been. There is no way Miria would have let Helen Habsburg in on something like this; the girl talks too much and can't keep secrets. No, I think it's just what it appears to be: a bunch of politically amateur claymores got together to make Miria a queen and nearly got her killed for their efforts."

Jaroslaw inquired, "And why do you say Miria would win?"

Dietrich covered her eyes with a hand, "If you must know it's because Claire's overplayed her hand. Miria looked bad when the Monarchist League was found out, but she didn't resist arrest and nearly died when the Angevins tried to seize power. She's sympathetic, she's fought for the city and won several times, the military likes her in command, not to mention her enormous wealth, and she has the support of a significant number of claymores."

"Yet I hear the pro-Miria parliamentarians make up only a third of that body," Jaroslaw noted. "That leaves her well short of a governing majority if she wants to be queen."

Dietrich swatted away a bug before continuing, "A third of the parliament might back Claire's demand for a republic, but there's another third that would prefer a compromise between the monarchists and republicans, and there's never been a republic on that island. All people have known is theocracy, oligarchy or monarchy, and if Claire thinks she can impose one by refusing to compromise, the island will be a house divided against itself. They'll be easy pickings when Queen Violetta comes back with a mercenary army."

"So then, how does Miria win?"

Dietrich pursed her lips, got up, and looked out over the city, "The longer they're stalemated the more pressure the military will add for Miria to act. If there's one thing militaries abhor, it's political chaos when facing an external threat. If Miria really wanted to, she could score a knockout blow against Claire's republicans and secure the island against Violetta. All she has to do is be willing to do something she would not prefer."

Jaroslaw leaned over the railing beside her, "Which is?"

"Every man and woman, Raki and Claire included, have a price, they just don't know it," Dietrich explained. "If Miria wants to become queen, all she has to do is follow in the footsteps of Katarzyna Romanowa."

Understanding came to her boyfriend's face, "Ah right, I'd forgotten about the twins."

* * *

Dietrich's dreams were never predictable anymore. Sometimes they were like those she had had prior to soul-linking with the empress: random and comfortingly bizarre. Those kinds of dreams she could put aside and easily forget. Other times the dreams were more vivid and sometimes nightmarish. But one series of dreams she both relished and sometimes dreaded more than any of the others…

She felt a nudge.

"Vice Marshal, there is news from the front," a familiar voice interrupted.

Dietrich opened her eyes knowing exactly what she was about to witness: another memory of Katarzyna Romanowa's that must have slipped in during the soul-link.

It was therefore no surprise to find herself in a familiarly tall body, nor to see a young man in the black and gold of an Allied Army officer's uniform. A quick glance was enough to confirm she was in a large white army tent lit by candles.

"What is it? Have you any news of General Funihashi's movements?"

The words, as always, were not in Dietrich's voice, but Katarzyna Romanowa's.

Romanowa shifted her long body and hopped out of the cot dressed in the splendid black and gold uniform and a black cloak bordered in gold. The shorter man handed her the dispatch, which she hastily read.

"So, Funihashi's tripled the guard on his supply convoys," Romanowa said, clearly amused, "he should well know the consequences of that."

Bastia's stern voice interrupted, "News, Vice Marshal?"

Bastia Romanowa was dressed in full armor, only her head vainly unarmored to reveal her elaborately braided hair.

Vice Marshal motioned to a grand strategy table, "We have news from the front, from Tymoshenko. Captain, show us the positions."

The goateed Siyamese captain doffed his metal helmet respectfully, "Commander Tymoshenko says she hit their convoys a full six times with the full company of slayers as you commanded. Five of the attacks were successful, but the last one she had to pull back after losing six warriors to the Smokowcy guarding the major supply route north of Trentino."

The conversation continued on in what seemed an incredible amount of detail to Dietrich, but the future Cesarzowa seemed to have no difficulty keeping track. It was all fascinating to Dietrich, with everything from tactics to the nature of enemy commanders' tactical tendencies and personalities being gauged. It did not take long to learn that Romanowa was on an offensive reconquering territory, much of it lost over half a century prior. The Vice Marshal expressed a worry about rivalries over which of the twelve extant countries in the alliance would receive this land, a worry Bastia dismissed.

From what Dietrich gleamed things had gone rather turbulently after Romanowa's promotion to Major, which was in contrast to the propaganda she'd once read. Romanowa's rise thereafter had been as rapid as her victories.

But these it seemed were not so easily achieved as was portrayed in the newspaper accounts. Romanowa was trying to achieve the impossible while being hobbled by her own side's half-hearted backing.

Bastia suggested, "We need to keep them on the defensive."

An edge crept into the Vice Marshal's voice, "What would you have me do that I haven't already, Bastia? The army's strength is in its slayers' mobility, not its overall strength. Raiding the enemy and carrying out surprise attacks with cavalry and slayers will only get us so far. Funihashi's consolidated all of their armies into one force that we can no longer overwhelm," she complained to Bastia. "Here we are, only 74,000 men and less than 200 slayers strong, and we can't even replace our losses adequately. Meanwhile Funihashi's got twice our numbers, thirty Smokowcy, and his force is getting stronger by the day. If we get pinned down fighting his main force, I won't have an army left to lead."

A young male aide stepped into the tent and saluted, "Vice Marshal, there's a silver-eyed messenger. She claims she has a message for your eyes only from Alliance High Command."

"Show her in," Katarzyna said, a clear bitterness in her voice.

_Oh dear, tell me this memory is faithful. _

Walking into the tent was a very familiar, statuesque, strawberry-blond claymore with looks that put all but the most beautiful women to shame; Lillian O'Malley. Lillian was wearing the black cotton and silver armor of a front-line warrior.

Lillian saluted, "Vice Marshal, a message from the Alliance High Command."

Katarzyna Romanowa's mood audibly improved, "Thank you, Commander."

The Vice Marshal took the sealed envelope with a white-gloved hand and read silently.

"_Vice Marshal Romanowa,_

_ Due to actions elsewhere, we regret to inform you that no further reinforcements will be available for your army until circumstances elsewhere change. We have discovered traitors amongst the current force of bodyguards we use, and need to transfer your veteran "Silver-eyed Guard" of fifty slayers to alleviate a dire security problem. A compensating force of 100 new slayer recruits will be gifted to compensate. We eagerly await your upcoming victory against General Funihashi and wish to express our gratitude for your many victories on our behalf,_

_Sincerely,_

_Alliance High Command" _

Katarzyna gritted her teeth and began writing a response, quickly finished, signed and then turned it over to Lillian after closing it with a wax seal. Lillian seemed to be expecting some words, as she hesitated to leave.

"It is good to see you again, Lillian," Katarzyna volunteered, "please give the High Command my regards."

"I will, Vice Marshal, and let me just say you've been a hero for all of us," Lillian complimented, "it's been an honor to know you."

Lillian bowed and then rushed out of the tent alongside the male aide.

Bastia had her eyebrows raised, "Just what was it you sent them back? What did that message say?"

The Vice Marshal kicked over her strategy table in fury, "The bastards are stabbing us in the back. Here we are, on the offensive with the initiative, winning against a superior force, and they've denied us future reinforcements and stripped me of you and my silver-eyed guard. This is your mother's doing. She'd rather the heads of state deadlock over who gets what, just like Poniatowski warned, than allow me any more success. Well, if that's how they want to play it, let's see how long they'll stay bastards when my letter of resignation reaches them."

"You can't," Bastia blurted out, "you're the only hope we have! Tell Poniatowski, I'm sure he'll fight for—"

Romanowa sighed, "Field Marshal Poniatowski was reprimanded for overstepping his authority last week for just that reason. It's over, Bastia. Your mother's won. Tomorrow we will begin a fighting withdrawal and fall back onto more defensible ground. Funihashi will be lauded as a victor, and my name will be tarnished. We will lose tens of thousands of men for no reason but a High Command that can't hold itself to the same oath I took."

"This isn't over," Bastia declared. "There is always an alternative. Write the Field Marshal, ask him to ignore High Command and send emergency reinforcements anyways."

Katarzyna grinned, thoughtful, "You're asking me to go around High Command and have Poniatowski subvert their authority? Even then we'll likely only get a few thousand emergency reinforcements; it'll hardly be enough to staunch our losses. You're not inferring we've lost all respect for the High Command's strategic decision-making, are you?"

"It's about time the humans learned that a silver-eyed general is not to be trifled with," Bastia replied, confidence brimming. "If they want to do this to you, I say you publish what happened and why in the army's official newspaper. Send dispatches of your account to all the major cities' papers, let everyone know what has happened."

"You do realize that might be construed as treason," the Vice Marshal warned.

Bastia countered, "What's the more treasonous, squabbling over land that's yet to be reconquered or publishing why you've lost confidence in Alliance High Command? The people will not long be on their monarchs' side when they hear what's happened, and then they'll start listening to us a great deal more."

* * *

Ruud van Willems was dressed in his finest blue and gold robes as he took his seat behind the enormous Lord Mayor's desk. Miria had come to the new palatial residence of the Lord Mayor, which was located in the northern part of the city's new citadel on the banks of the Rabona River. It was here that Parliament was meeting, and also where the Lord Mayor consequently located his office. Miria, wearing her armored best but unarmed, had taken a seat before the desk as Ruud began his entreaty. Miria noticed this last detail as Ruud van Willems motioned the two Council Guardsmen out of the room.

_I'll give you credit, Lord Maire; the desk is the same size as your ego. _

"General," Ruud van Willems addressed Miria, "I need you to understand that the fate of your country is bound up in what we talk about today."

"I understand," Miria agreed.

It was a gaudy room in Miria's eyes, decorated in gold, platinum and diamonds of many colors, and dominated by an arched window showing the ascent to heaven of the angels Teresa and Claire. This last part had been funded by the Rabona Orthodox Church, which Claire vehemently disliked due to her beliefs in the Goddesses of Love, Teresa and Claire.

_Just you wait, Ruud, pretty soon Claire and Raki will be demanding that window has to go as well. Then Archbishop Galatea and the faithful would give you a real fright. _

"This current situation between you and the Lautrecs is most unfortunate," the Lord Mayor said, clasping his hands together. "Given that Violetta Angevin is at large abroad, and I'm told now has a son, this country has never had more need of a strong hand at home. My constituency is willing to make an offer that will break the deadlock if you'll accept it."

_ You are definitely the consummate politician, Ruud, but I'm not biting before I know the full details. I am not going to play your fool. _

Miria leaned back, "And what deal are you offering me?"

Ruud brushed his goatee before speaking,"The Parliament will be granted the sole right of taxation and law-making on the island. The military will be under its control as well, and you will be named to the throne to delegitimize the Angevins' claim to it."

_How cavalier of you, Ruud. You'd have me decide the fate of the entire country right in your office, away from anyone who might object. I doubt your constituency has actually even seen this proposal. I would certainly have heard about it if they had seen it. _

Ruud rapped the desk with a knuckle, "Well, what do you say?"

"You never mentioned who would command the army," Miria noted, "nor if my position would come with powers of any sort."

The Lord Mayor chortled, "I thought that was what you wanted, General. You funded a group dedicated to making you—"

Miria rose to her feet and cut him off, furious, "I did NOTHING of the sort! You think just because they wanted me to be named queen they would tell me about it? The first I heard of this blundering group was when Zaehringen had me arrested because of it. If I can't command our armies, why should I give up my position now to become a powerless queen? I can do more good where I am."

Ruud sighed at her denial but said nothing.

_He doesn't believe me. Damn your naivety, Natalie, what in the world did you think would happen to me when other people found out? Nobody's believed a word of denial all week, despite it being true, just because you're my daughter and were in this Monarchist League. _

"I can name your position as commander-in-chief of the armed forces if you'd like," Ruud offered as he moved on, "but the purse strings will remain with the people."

Miria nodded, "That's more acceptable, but is there anything else?"

Ruud pushed a set of papers out to sign, "For someone who doesn't want to be queen, you hardly hesitated to accept that proposal."

"I am not going to say no to an offer that lets me help protect the country," Miria replied brusquely, "and I never said I minded the position, I just wasn't going to demand it."

Willems' eyebrows rose, "There is however a catch."

Miria paused in surprise before her staring down Ruud, "What catch?"

"Parliament has become unsettled by your dispute with the Lautrecs," Ruud unpleasantly reminded her, "and requires that you reconcile with them before this deal will go into effect."

_I should have known 'try-to-please-everyone Willems' would do this. _

"Non," Miria said firmly.

"General Malaga, we are on the cusp of a major breakthrough here," the Lord Mayor sighed, clearly exasperated, "surely you can reconcile yourself with a former comrade for the sake of the country, no?"

Miria poured scorn into her voice, "After all Claire and Raki did? Claire insulted me behind my back saying I didn't care for the people and implied I was becoming a power-hungry monster. Raki went before your Parliament to say that the Monarchist League list is proof I was plotting to overthrow the government and should be removed from my post. And that was after it came out that it was at least partially forged."

"General, I realize the task is very hard, but try not to be emotional about it," Ruud advised, "and it will be easier."

It took all of Miria's self-restraint to not strangle Willems for the stereotypical comment on her gender's supposed nature. Instead she forced out a false smile.

"I would reconcile with Claire despite all that," Miria said through gritted teeth.

Ruud van Willems' face grinned as his emotions soared.

"But for one thing," Miria added to his disappointment. "My daughter Natalie, fool she may be for signing onto the Monarchist League rolls, recently was vindictively manhandled by Claire. Claire's daughter Teresa slid down a banister when Natalie had just arrived to babysit, and you know what Claire does? Claire gets back home from insulting and arguing with me and viciously laid her hands on MY GIRL for something her child did to herself. Natalie was humiliated in front of the public for no just cause and her dress was ruined. Imagine one of your daughters being manhandled without cause and then flung into the dirt and dung on the streets, Lord Mayor. I of course sent the bill to them, and they 'kindly' sent us back the doctor's bill for Teresa in retaliation."

"General, I must remind you that several of the eyewitnesses at the scene of your original argument mentioned you made several highly insulting remarks to Claire," Ruud van Willems pointed out, "and only after those were made did Raki make those allegations and your daughter get mistreated."

"And I said those only after hearing her stab me in the back," Miria fumed. "She deserved every bit of me calling her a jealous, backstabbing bitch. If you want reconciliation, Lord Mayor, I suggest Claire and Raki eat crow, get down on their knees, and beg my daughter's forgiveness for taking their anger out on her."

Miria had had enough and stormed out past a pair of surprised guardsmen at the door. Eventually she arrived back at her more peaceful Ile de poires manor. Situated on a mid-river island, it was almost serenely detached from the world. Rabona's skyline was distant, but too depressing to look at from the roof balcony, so instead Miria looked west. A magnificent sight greeted her, for the sun was setting against the backdrop of the beautiful Border Mountains many miles distant. A red glow from behind the peaks signaled nightfall was fast approaching. Miria's eyes were just beginning to shut when she heard something unsettling.

"What's the matter, Miria dear, under the weather?"

Miria's eyes snapped wide open at hearing Ophelia's voice. There, in mid-air, was the disembodied, ethereal head of her one-time enemy, Ophelia.

Miria shut her eyes, "Just a dream, just a dream, come on, wake up Miria!"

"Oh, but you aren't dreaming," Ophelia's voice laughed, "for you're wide awake."

Miria opened her eyes to find Ophelia's head even closer and blurted out, "Are you a ghost? Have you come to get revenge upon me?"

Ophelia's voice laughed in Miria's head, "Oh, dear, dear, have you still not figured it out? I'm not a ghost, dear Miria."

The face mutated into an ethereal version of Miria, "For I am part of you."

"Oh god, I'm going mad," Miria cried out, fear eating into her.

A lower pitched version of her voice said in mocking laughter, "Mad? Going mad? You worry about going mad? Why, my dear Miria, madness comes hand-in-hand with greatness! You may think yourself mad, but you're never saner than when you listen to our advice."

Miria looked up, "Our?"

Two ethereal bodies were now seated atop the roof's balcony railing, each back to back with the other. One was instantly recognizable as herself in armor, while the other…

Miria gasped, "Tabitha?"

The ethereal Tabitha snapped, "Where is the queen I wanted before me? Where is the woman I died for?"

Miria felt a tear come down her right cheek, "Tabitha, please."

"Oh don't get your underwear in a bunch, Miria," Miria's ethereal twin clicked in disapproval, "what you see next to me is just another side of you. She's chosen to appear as Tabitha to remind you of a debt you owe."

"Stop this, make it stop," Miria screamed, "leave me alone!"

"Oh, but we've been here, with you, for such a very long time deep inside your mind," her ethereal twin said darkly, now getting up and circling around Miria. "You've dreamed of us before, so why panic when we come out to play? I couldn't stand the idea of staying inside on such a fine day as today, and we were afraid if we left you to your own devices the results would be most disappointing, isn't that right, Tabitha?"

Miria glanced around to find the ethereal version of Tabitha right where she'd been.

Tabitha's voice implored, "The country is crying out for your leadership! Queen Violetta will be back with her son and a mercenary army the likes of which this island has never seen before. Toulouse needs a queen who can command the army that stops her."

Miria snapped, "What do you want me to do, go on my knees to Claire and humiliate myself just to sate her?"

"I doubt you two can reconcile now," ethereal Tabitha confided to Miria, "but you can make certain that at least she and Raki will restrain themselves."

Miria's eyes narrowed, "How?"

"You exchange daughters as wards in each of your households," the ghostly Tabitha advised, "and I already know you'll object to sending Natalie. That's why you'll adopt Renee and send her instead. Claire and Raki send their little Teresa in exchange to ensure their good behavior. They won't be so eager to manhandle someone as hotheaded as Renee, they know you love her almost like a daughter, and she is respected as a leader of men and a worthy heir. Offer Ruud van Willems this deal, and you will be queen still. Violetta will return with her boy to find a strong queen and a united country against her."

Miria's ethereal twin scoffed in disgust, "I guess we can honestly now say there are voices in your head not worth following. That was the most naïve bullshit I've ever heard, and I've heard a lot of it living inside your head, Miria. You know Claire; she doesn't do compromise! She is a woman dedicated to sticking to her principles no matter what. That's all well and good if she's nobody important, but she isn't a nobody! Claire says she isn't playing politics, and look at the shit she pulls!"

"I admit she is most troublesome," ethereal Tabitha offered.

"Troublesome doesn't begin to describe that backstabbing, jealous, envious bitch that she's become," Miria's other half countered. "She has no ambitions for herself, and yet your ambitions she has no problem labeling as dangerous, power-hungry or uncaring. If Claire really believed in democracy like she claims to, she'd step aside from her implied threat and let the men vote as they wish. Then we'd see just where the chips lie."

"It's just rhetoric," ghostly Tabitha countered, "Claire is a political amateur. I'm sure she didn't know how—"

Miria's ghostly side waved about her ethereal arms dramatically, "We all know EXACTLY what Claire meant when she said Miria could never be queen while she draws breath. She's threatening us with her sword, not her husband's vote! Her gall should infuriate! A pregnant claymore thinks she can dictate to you, the person who saved Rabona from the Angevins while she was busy playing mommy!"

The ghostly image of Tabitha shook her head, "She doesn't have enough support to dictate anything. Offer Ruud van Willems my compromise and you can yet repair things between you and Claire and still be queen. The people of Toulouse need you, Reina."

The other ghost snickered, "Trust in Ruud van Willems? Trust in squabbling politicians and the uneducated masses who vote for them? You may be mad, Miria, but I know your sanity is never stronger than when it listens to my voice. Folly, I name it. This country needs one ruler, one army, and one queen. Willems would have you hand over the purse strings and make you dance to his tune. With a parliament in charge of the army's pay, you won't just have one commander in charge, you'll have 147. Imagine the chaos as Queen Violetta lands with her army to seize back the throne."

"You're fearmongering," ethereal Tabitha, whom Miria judged to be her better half, noted. "They know better than to undermine the army protecting them."

Miria's ghostly twin displayed a vague but wicked smile, "The differing factions will demand you defend their lands before the others. Put them in charge of the purse strings and you may find your army's pay hostage to political gridlock. When Violetta comes back, you will be hobbled, fighting her with one arm and the parliament with the other. As for Claire's supposed embrace of 'democracy', I think you'll find what she actually wants quite provincial."

Miria tilted her head, "How so?"

"Claire believes in the Goddesses of Teresa and Claire, unlike the large majority of her countrymen! Do you think for one minute her supposed love of 'democracy, freedom and faith' will last when the voters demand the Rabona Orthodox Church creed be the nation's official faith? It's a farce! She wants gridlock to protect herself; what she wants is the wishes of her minority to overrule that of your majority."

"Be that as it may, I can't ignore her," Miria sighed, "or her demands. I will probably need to make a compromise with her."

Miria's ethereal twin shook her head, "She's already demanded that you never become queen; the bitch is not going to compromise. Already she's saying you funded the Monarchist League and plotted to take over. How long will you remain a general with her bleating on like this? Every day we delay gives us less time to prepare for an invasion and weakens your hand. We know her character; she's putting politics before country! You cannot compromise with such a person."

"Then offer me a better solution," Miria snapped.

"Before I do, you should remember Claire wants an existence we only had right after the Organization fell," Miria's ethereal and more evil twin noted. "You know we could never hope to escape involvement in politics on this island, even then. Why pay a hypocrite any deference? Silver-eyed witches deserve a better future than the simpleton existence she is offering them. You can offer them and everyone else that better future. But you'll need to act decisively against her if this island is to have a future that doesn't have Violetta conquering it."

Miria stood up and shouted, "I am not killing her."

Miria's ethereal twin laughed, "Whoever said anything about killing Claire?"

Ethereal images of Claire's two twins, Teresa and Victor, appeared before Miria.

Miria's ghostly twin moved forward and patted their heads, "Claire needs to be brought to heel before her obstinacy destroys the country from within. Claire fears both your powers and your imagined faults now, but not enough to compromise. I say it's about time you gave her reason to really fear you and forced her to the table."

Miria's ethereal twin stroked the ghostly twins' 'hair', "Mommy would have to behave once you had something of hers beyond price, now wouldn't she?"


	20. Chapter 19: Tipping Point

**Chapter 19: Tipping Point**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Military Revolution"**

**By G. Poniatowski**

**Katarzyna Romanowa once remarked, when pressed by a skeptic of her embrace of gunpowder weapons, "Victoria McKenzie once thought as you do. Victoria believed that so long as her blade was swift, she could always win one-on-one against any human. As you may notice, she's no longer around to voice that viewpoint." Victoria McKenzie was certainly not the first victim of the gunpowder weapons, but she wouldn't be the last. To understand the era in which the Romanows came to power, one needs to understand what we today call the "Gunpowder Revolution".**

**Three centuries prior to the Cesarzowa's coronation it was the mounted knight that reigned supreme on the battlefield. Their dominance at first was not even challenged by crude, new gunpowder weapons. Instead, knights found themselves first challenged by massed longbowmen and crossbows, in reaction to which they and their horses wore ever more ornate suits of plate armor. Their slipping dominance was ended when professional pikemen and the infantry square tactic were introduced in quick succession. Gunpowder weapons at this time were only just being introduced for infantry in the form of crude "hand cannons".**

**Introduced 150 years before the Romanow Empire, these early weapons had an effect on the battlefield all out of proportion to the damage they inflicted. Hand cannons may have been horribly inaccurate and slow to reload, but they had unmatched stopping power, one could train a soldier to use them in a day (unlike years for longbows), and their noisy nature was frightening. Crude cannon meanwhile revolutionized siege warfare, turning sieges that lasted years into sieges lasting mere weeks. Cannons could knock down any wall given enough time, the effect being to centralize power behind monarchs.**

**As hand cannons continued to improve, knights began finding it harder and harder to afford the armor required for battle. Some quit going altogether, and instead paid their monarchs a tax to fund replacements, leading to the first standing armies in centuries. Those knights that did join the fight wore ever thicker plate armor. The arms race was also leading to massively larger states and proportionately larger armies. Such was the effect of cannon that castles during this period ceased being strategic strongholds and instead were expanded into luxurious palaces for the aristocracy.**

**Five decades before the Romanow Empire cannon became even more important, as the first mobile, wheeled horse artillery was introduced. For the first time cannon could be used on a field of battle, although they remained rare. The hand cannon evolved into more refined and powerful weapons like the harquebus and blunderbuss. Although still very inaccurate, economics was beginning to tip warfare in their favor over the longbow and crossbow. The prior of these took years to master for any soldier, while the ever-more powerful crossbows in use required ever more cumbersome instruments to wind and fire them.**

**Some historians say Katarzyna Romanowa pushed this revolution two centuries ahead by her extraordinary use of lighter, easily mass-produced field artillery in massed batteries. The extraordinary jump in firepower seen on the battlefield was central to her victory over the Grand Alliance at Liberec. Having survived an assassination attempt and invasion, the Cesarzowa was determined her armies would never be in such a position ever again. She acquired several copies of the latest Bretonese matchlock musket and ordered improved copies to be made for all her armies. It was a momentous moment for warfare and a sale the Bretonese would later come to bitterly regret…**

* * *

Dietrich flinched at the cacophony of noise. She was standing less than twenty paces away from a line of Imperial Guardsmen wielding a large assortment of gunpowder weapons. There were also some wielding longbows and crossbows, but those didn't make nearly as much startling noise nor any smoke like the gunners were making.

"I forgot to mention the noise," Dietrich's boyfriend Jaroslaw apologized.

Dietrich plugged her ringing ears with her fingers, "I should have known you'd leave the most important details out like always."

It was one of Jaroslaw Tusk's most annoying habits; leaving out the most important details until after it would have mattered to Dietrich. She could not help but be reminded of his leaving out the small detail of him originally seducing her as part of his job as the Cesarzowa's deputy spymaster. For whatever reason, despite his duplicity, Dietrich had found herself unable to move on and simply stuck with him.

"Those who have missed or failed to penetrate their target step aside," a man's voice bellowed. "Everyone else, move on to your forty meter target."

Four black-clad Imperial Guardsmen left the firing line, three of them equipped with short bows that had failed to penetrate the armored mannequins 20 meters distant, and the fourth was equipped with a crude hand gun that had missed the target entirely.

Dietrich glanced over to find the voice's owner, the gray-haired Minister of War, Antoni Poniatowski, in an ornate black with gold braids military uniform. Next to him was a considerably taller, statuesque woman in a magnificent white military uniform that also had gold braid embroidery. Dietrich recognized the Cesarzowa easily now, her skin a creamy caramel, an unmistakable brand on her left cheek insufficiently disguised by makeup, mixed white and black facial features, and long, wavy blond hair.

Katarzyna Romanowa was an unusually tall female slayer, something that alone gave her an intimidating presence, but it was the eyes that marked her apart from her peers. The Cesarzowa had fierce, piercing silver eyes that seemed to take in everything and miss nothing.

Poniatowski objected quietly as the men readied their weapons to fire on the next set of armored mannequins, "Cesarzowa, I appreciate the demonstration, but this is a very large leap of faith you've placed in these new Bretonese weapons. To equip a third of your Imperial Guard with something so advanced before they've been properly demonstrated in battle is—"

"Unorthodox, yes," Katarzyna Romanowa agreed, "but warfare changes and gunpowder weapons are proving more useful each year. We have an advantage in them over the Grand Alliance; an advantage I do not intend to be squandered. Tell me Hrabina Tuluzy, when you have an advantage over someone, what do you do with it?"

Dietrich was almost startled to be asked as she walked up, "Well, I would never want to give it up. I would use it as much as I could."

The Cesarzowa smiled, "Precisely, Hrabina. When you have your enemy by the throat, you should never give them even a moment to breathe. Gunners, you may fire at will!"

A tremendously loud volley of gunshots rang throughout the inner courtyard of the War Ministry. Dietrich recognized it as the immense red sandstone building from her old memories; the place where the Allied Army once had its headquarters. Its six-story high walls made the cacophony even worse as the echoes bounced around as Dietrich plugged her ears.

When the results came in it was clear about half of the crossbowmen, all of whom were using less powerful versions, had failed to either pierce or find a seam in their armored mannequin targets. This left only the men with the most powerful crossbows, the longbowmen, harquebusiers, and the musketeers. Dietrich noticed these latter two weapons, especially the muskets, hadn't so much penetrated the armor as smashed a gaping hole right through it. The longbows in contrast were having trouble penetrating full plate armor even at forty meters.

"Next targets," Poniatowski bellowed out.

Men replaced the armored mannequins with new ones in a line sixty meters out from the firing line. The men took aim, and with a wave of the Cesarzowa's hand, opened fire in a loud, noisy and smoky fashion. This time all but one longbowman missed or failed to penetrate the armor with their arrows, while the majority of the crossbowmen hit their targets in contrast. That was where their success seemed to end, for only a few penetrated the armor. About half the harquebusiers seemed to have missed as Dietrich looked on, but the large majority of the musketeers once again blew gaping holes into the armor.

Katarzyna Romanowa motioned triumphantly to the results, "This, Antoni, is why the longbow and crossbow are going to be obsolete. A musketeer is both faster to train and packs far greater firepower than any archer. Next targets!"

The men on the firing line looked surprised to see new armor placed a mere twenty meters away. They looked over in surprise before readying once more to fire.

Dietrich's eyes narrowed as she noticed something, "Wait a moment, is that—"

She was cut off when the men on the firing line let loose. There were sparks flying all over the various armored mannequins. When the smoke cleared Antoni Poniatowski seemed taken aback at the complete lack of armor penetration present.

"What in the world," he blurted out, "is that armor?"

The men on the firing line dispersed at a wave from the Cesarzowa, who led Antoni Poniatowski, Dietrich and Tusk close in to the armor. Dietrich smirked when she saw the armor closer up; she'd most recently seen Katarzyna Romanowa's guards wearing it.

The Cesarzowa pounded a hand on a mannequin's helmet, "That's solid duratium plate armor, and just as bulletproof as I hoped. I've just upgraded the Silver Guard's armor to include duratium plate protection for their upper legs and arms. Although by the looks of this shot, it appears a musketeer could still kill one of my bodyguards."

The relatively open-faced helmet had armor protecting the cheeks and forehead, but not the nose, mouth or the eyes. A musket ball had gone straight through where they eyes would have been.

Antoni Poniatowski observed, "Even if you armored around the eyes duratium still wouldn't save someone from getting hit by a cannonball. It might not penetrate, but the impact would kill almost anyone."

The Cesarzowa made an abrupt declaration, "I've decided that in two years' time a third of all army infantrymen will be musketeers. In three years' time half of all infantrymen will be carrying muskets along with a sword for close quarters. Heavy cavalry will go from wearing three-quarters plate to only a helmet, cuirass, pauldrons and tassets. Our light cavalrymen, the Hussars, will be armored only in a helmet and cuirass."

Poniatowski scoffed to Dietrich's surprise, "What, take away all the armored advantages of our cavalrymen without adding anything to their weaponry to compensate? Why wasn't I consulted on this earlier? You need the consent of the army for something like this."

Romanowa's voice darkened, almost as if she were imitating a man's, "You think I require your consent? Let me be clear, Romanowa, I don't give a damn for your consent! You're going to be Supreme Commander in name only; you'll answer to my orders and play your part. This is an offer you can't refuse."

Poniatowski, furious, walked off without anything but a glare for his empress.

Dietrich was flummoxed, but the Cesarzowa sighed, "That was just a little address Antoni gave me back when he forced this position upon me."

Jaroslaw jumped up to his Cesarzowa's side, "Your Grace, I'm not so sure infuriating your top military subordinate is—"

"Let him stew," Empress Katarzyna declared, "it's time he realized who's fully in command now. He may have nearly been an emperor in truth the day after the High Command's days were ended, but he's been struggling to adjust to becoming a subordinate once more. He should know by now I am no man's puppet."

Jaroslaw, wearing his military-best black and gold uniform, reminded, "Cesarzowa, there is still the matter of the investigation. I am afraid that—"

The Cesarzowa interrupted him, "The investigation is about to dead-end again, yes, I'm sure that's what you think will happen. You will have Duchess test the laundry of all our guests for the last month, past and present."

Dietrich frowned, "Your Grace, why not have Sturm and Drang also smell the clothing for the assassin's scent?

The Cesarzowa scoffed, "And give the traitors in our midst advanced warning? The question you ought to be asking yourselves is not whether it is good to be paranoid, but whether you are being paranoid enough. It is not a question of if there are traitors amongst us; the timing of the attempt on my life too exquisitely coincided with the Grand Alliance's offensive for that."

Katarzyna took out a new weapon, which looked similar to the guns previously but was small enough to easily be held by one hand.

Dietrich looked on curiously when the Cesarzowa answered her unasked question, "The old Comnenian nobility used to dabble with matchlock pistols. Of course with a burning fuse they were horribly impractical. Tesla came up with a better solution: the wheellock. This can be loaded and ready to fire at any time."

Jaroslaw tried to press on, "Cesarzowa, about the investigation—"

"I will be getting to that, Colonel Tusk," the empress said, stoic. "I am not blind to Antoni's concerns." She continued on about the pistol, "I had a hand in creating this particular model of wheellock pistol. It can fire two shots in quick succession thanks to two barrels and two triggers. It's relatively light and easy to wield with one hand; perfect for a cavalryman, wouldn't you say, Hrabina?"

Dietrich noticed one shortcoming, "If can be fired at will, why not replace all the muskets with wheellock versions?"

Jaroslaw interrupted, "Complexity and expense. It costs eight times what one musket does to build one, and it's more time-consuming to build."

The Cesarzowa looked over the pistol while she talked, "All Imperial Guard Cavalrymen will be equipped with two of these, all regular army cavalry officers will receive one, and all other officers ranked higher than the equivalent of an army Captain shall receive one."

Jaroslaw's patience broke, "Cesarzowa, regarding the investigation—"

"I have no new orders to give you, Colonel. You will track down the traitors in our midst, and once found out, I intend to give them the death they so richly deserve."

The Cesarzowa took aim at a nearby mannequin, and got it tottering with her first shot to its chest, and with her second blew the head clear off.

* * *

"What I'm saying Cid is that the politicians should keep their hands out of army affairs," Galk lectured. "I had to calm down a number of officers today after that dreadful 'Parliamentary Supremacy' bill was introduced by Raki and Ruud van Willems."

Cid tried not to sigh as he listened atop his manor's balcony, "Galk, what in the world do you expect me to do about this? Our wives are embroiled in a fight and now I'm told Raki's insisting my wife was plotting to overthrow the government. It's at times like this that I steer clear of politics as much as possible, not dive into them!"

The evening light glimmered on Galk's armor as the far larger man seemed to ponder this problem, his impatience only given away by the tapping of one armored foot as he sat beside Cid. Cid could only imagine what was going through Galk's mind. Here they were on the peaceful Île des Poires, a few miles from the hustle and politics of Rabona. It was a river isle, seemingly separated from all the troubles of the world, but Cid knew better.

Seated atop the balcony he could see the burgeoning southern walls of Rabona, where the four-story walls were too short to shield the city's impressive skyline from view. Far beyond the walls Cid made out the outline of the massive Teresian Cathedral's three spires, while far to its west, on the opposite riverbank, he noted the imposing walls of the new citadel. It was within those walls that the new parliament was meeting, and also where Raki was causing seemingly endless heartburn for Miria's army officers.

Galk pursed his lips, something Cid only knew him to do when he was deadly serious, "Cid, look, I have enough problems with going on with the army. I have a bunch of Orthodox officers who are going ballistic over this bill."

Cid rubbed his forehead as he turned to watch the Toulouse River flow past either side of the manor, "This is about his religion again, isn't it?"

"It's about a heretic trying to cement parliamentary control over an Orthodox military," Galk sternly explained, "and I assure you it's not being well-received. You're in the Conseil des Seigneurs; the upper house. Whether Raki likes it or not, the upper house can block anything his followers try to stuff down our throats in Parliament."

Cid huffed in annoyance, "What do you want me to do, Galk, set off a crisis? There are 147 Members of Parliament, and in case you hadn't noticed the only survivors of the attempted coup in the Conseil des Seigneurs is me and Ruud van Willems, and he's joined Parliament."

Galk shot back, "There are 10 neophyte members in your body as well. Why don't you man up and oppose this? You're a wealthy gentleman whose wife they practically revere. They'll listen to you if you say this Parliament should keep its nose out of military affairs. We don't need our boys worrying about a bunch of squabbling politicians when Violetta Angevin comes back to claim the throne for her boy."

Cid clicked in disapproval before replying, "Galk, you ought to know better than to repeat that rumor. Violetta Angevin was only six months pregnant, max, before her husband died. It's been only two months since. I very much doubt the bitch has given birth yet, and if she has I doubt the baby made it. In fact, since she's overseas, she could have miscarried for all we know. Drumming up the threat of a foreign invasion is the last thing we need."

Galk did not smile, "Au contraire, le Comte de Malaga. One of the things we found missing from shortly before the Angevin coup attempt was a ten-ton shipment of diamonds. Ten tons of diamonds is far more than enough for Violetta to buy herself an army, and probably a pretty good one at that. Like it or not, her men will be plenty motivated to get their hands on more of your wife's diamonds. If you want to stop that invasion, I suggest you keep the politicians out of the army's affairs before one of the officers takes matters into his own hands."

Cid rose and shouted, "Is that a threat, Major General?"

Galk didn't even blink, "Hardly, I'm just stating the obvious, Cid. An Orthodox military is not going to easily tolerate MPs of known heretic faith having a say over them. Raki's not a popular man in the military. He may be in Lautrec, but Lautrec is rather unpopular here after that coup attempt. Plus Raki's insisting that the Orthodox faith should be one of two official faiths on the island. How do you think that makes my devout officers feel?"

"So he's of the same faith as the traitors," Cid said, shaking his head, "that doesn't make him a traitor. I am not going to endorse calling all believers in the Trinity of Gods traitors to the country. This country would be torn apart if we lost our sense of nuance."

Galk turned, "Ah, Brigadier General, it's nice of you to join us. Have a seat."

Cid turned to find Renée wearing a magnificently ornate set of armor, which was probably appropriate given her promotion to Brigadier General. It was a promotion he was surprised Lord Mayor van Willems had allowed given Renée 's involvement in the Monarchist League. But then again, as Galk was making so abundantly clear, van Willems' plan to establish the Parliament as supreme controller of the military was not exactly popular with the army.

_Ruud, you are too predictable. Just because Natalie was in this group doesn't mean it had my wife's backing. Promoting her friends is not going to win you much of her backing if it comes to a showdown with the army. _

"Galk, Clarice was looking for you," Renée noted as she sat down, crossing her armored legs so as to avoid flashing her underwear. "She seemed a little upset about your letter to… what is that thing called again?"

"Newspaper? This is about the anti-marriage bill letter," Galk sighed. "Don't worry; I'll speak to her about it. Cid, remember the army expects someone to take a position to force Raki and Ruud to compromise."

Cid quietly reminded, "The prince of the night takes many positions, Galk, few of them political. Don't make me your sole hope. I am no politician."

Galk left wordlessly, but his disappointment was clear upon his face.

Renée watched him leave before turning her attention to Cid, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing that need concern you," Cid lied. "What was this about Clarice and a letter?"

"Galk wrote a letter to the newspaper that just opened and said he opposed the marriage reform bill being proposed—"

Cid interrupted, "Let me guess, it was sponsored by Raki, no?"

Renée looked surprised, "How'd you know?"

_I didn't need to know, Renée , I can guess well enough. _

Cid sipped some wine before replying, "Raki's not a popular man amongst many of the Orthodox. It seems that Galk opposes just about anything Raki proposes by default because of that. Remind me again, what is this bill about?"

Renée crossed her arms, "It limits a man to having just one wife, and here Galk is, a month away from his wedding to Clarice, and he's openly opposing an end to polygamy. God, you should have seen her, Cid, she took it pretty rough."

"Tell her not to take it to heart," Cid advised, "Galk's opposing basically anything Raki is proposing right now. If Raki walked on water Galk would claim it's because he couldn't swim."

"Clarice also wanted you to intervene in a matter," Renée added.

Cid's brow furrowed, "She wants me to intervene? I'm sorry, Renée , but what could I possibly do for Clarice when it comes to Galk? He's a man who usually gets his way and—"

"It's not about that," Renée snapped. "Clarice is upset about Miata. It seems there's a rumor going around about her and the Marquis Raul Tierra."

Cid felt his stomach sink as he heard Renée 's request on Clarice's behalf. Ordinarily he wouldn't have worried about a claymore running around with a man twice her age, but Miata was not like most claymores. She was the sort of claymore that could make a parent sick from worry and more than likely to do something rash and stupid. Also, unlike his adoptive daughter Natalie, whom Miria protected and mothered like nothing else, Miata had recently shown a particular talent for ignoring Clarice's parenting. He knew immediately what Clarice feared.

* * *

Katarzyna entered the darkened room accompanied by two sets of identical-twin male slayers. The brown-skinned twins to her right were clearly of Bengali descent, and were outfitted with duratium-forged halberds, an unusual weapon for her kind. The smaller pair was of Siyamese descent and wielded a pair of over-sized, curved Katana swords. Even though slayers like her could see in the dark like cats, it took a moment for Katarzyna to make the outlines of a cluster of men sitting behind a long table. This was due in no small part to the dark room's only lighting being a pair of torches near the door.

She sniffed a heavy whiff of cigar smoke in the air.

"Well, here she is gentlemen," a gruff and familiar male voice declared, "our best commander in the field just like you wanted."

Katarzyna knew immediately who was speaking, "Field Marshal Poniatowski, this is an unexpected surprise. It's a rather unusual place and time to request me though, sir."

Antoni Poniatowski's aging face was visible for a moment as he puffed on his cigar and its sparks barely lit up his face, "Take a seat, Marshal."

She walked to a simple chair with armrests and sat down.

Poniatowski continued, "So Marshal, take a guess, why would the alliance's highest-ranking army officer ask you to come out to a desolate, dank castle?"

"For the same reason your subordinates are refusing to show their faces," Katarzyna replied. "You'd only bring me out here this far west of Visegrad during wartime if you were plotting something. The only thing that would make men like Korsakov and Tokugawa hide in the dark would be something that went against the orders of Allied High Command."

"I told you all it would be useless to hide your faces," Poniatowski sneered as he lit a seven-wick candlestick, "there's no point to this little charade. Light the damn things and let's get this over with!"

Katarzyna found herself seated in the center of a table that wrapped widely around her chair in the shape not unlike that of a crescent moon. A total of twelve men including Poniatowski were dressed in fine military attire, each seated before a now-lit candlestick. She hadn't seen many of these men before, but they all wore the fine, ornate black and gold-embroidered uniforms of Marshals in the Alliance Army.

Poniatowski spoke in a grave voice, "Marshal Romanowa, as you are aware, the Alliance of Nations has been on the losing end of the Great War for over one hundred and ten years now. Yet despite all our reforms of the army, from introducing professional officers to improved tactics and weapons, we have continued to lose… until you came along."

"So you want my support for this… endeavor," she replied in euphemistic terms.

"I wanted to carry this out for some time, but the others said we had to wait and get your support before they would sign on," Poniatowski admitted, his words implying he found the others' actions more than a little cowardly. "They believe that without the support of our most accomplished commander our effort would be doomed to fail."

Katarzyna could appreciate the logic of the other Marshals. Even with Poniatowski backing what she suspected was a coup, none of them was willing to sign on until they knew where she would stand. It was not something that surprised her given her recent and decisive victory outside the walls of Seville.

"Your conspiracy is rather large considering the stakes, Field Marshal," she pointed out. "You've got twelve men in total and you're hoping no one will utter a word or be overheard by the wrong person."

"Any fewer and the good Field Marshal would have had trouble attracting my support," a cultured man's voice interrupted.

Katarzyna turned to find a handsome bearded man wearing the flowing white robes of a Maghrebi noble. He wore only a ceremonial dagger for protection, but as he walked around the table to take his seat beside the Field Marshal she recognized the man. This man was not just any man; he was a member of the Alliance High Command.

"Emir Maktoum, I should have known," Katarzyna commented, "you were never one to shy from big plans. However I haven't heard exactly what you or the Field Marshal intends to do once you have my support."

The Emir sat back in his chair, "This alliance has gone on losing long enough. We have wasted a century's worth of resources creating one-way Awakened soldiers. When this alliance started, there were fifteen member-states. One of those nations, the Oparan Protectorate, was conquered a century ago. Ten years ago the Kingdom of Breton pulled out of our alliance and took a third of our fleet with them. Most recently the Bengali Empire collapsed, severing this alliance from a third of its manpower."

Emir Maktoum cleared away the smoky air with a hand, "Yet despite all this, my peers, the remaining eleven heads of state, have managed to squander their chance for victory by trying to decide by consensus. It is a form of decision-making that cost your army dearly."

Katarzyna replied, "You plan on streamlining this, Your Excellency?"

A round a nervous laughter made its way around the table.

"I have had enough of my peers' bungling of the war effort," Maktoum declared. "It's time we had military strategy determined by those most competent to make it. The heads of state have had 110 years to win this war, and they have demonstrated they cannot do it. More damningly, Queen Anna's recent actions demonstrate that they're willing to hurt the war effort to carry out their personal vendettas."

He held out his hands and motioned to all the Marshals seated around him.

"The Alliance High Command has, at my urging, decided to convene a summit on December fifth of all heads of state to determine the future course of strategy. During the summit, aside from my family, the entire High Command will be killed. The Allied Army under Field Marshal Poniatowski will declare martial law and carry out the war against the Grand Alliance without interference from squabbling politicians."

"You do realize what you're proposing will set off a civil war within the alliance," Katarzyna pointed out. "Every noble with a drop of royal blood lineage will declare himself or herself heir to those thrones. You're asking me to put down all these prospective revolts, no?"

Maktoum favored her with a sly smile, "That, Marshal Romanowa, is exactly why we need you. When these would-be princes see you behind us, they will think twice before revolting. The Marshals also believe only you are capable of taking this alliance to victory. Field Marshal Poniatowski has agreed he is too old to serve in a new role I envisioned. We would ask you to be Supreme Commander of the Alliance of Nations' armed forces."

Even as cynical as she was, the audacity of this offer was so breathtaking it took a moment to comprehend.

She looked at all the deadly serious faces, "So, you want me to consent to this?"

Poniatowski got up and yelled, "You think I require your consent? Let me be clear, Romanowa, I don't give a damn for your consent! You're going to be Supreme Commander in name only; you'll answer to my orders and play your part. This is an offer you can't refuse."

Katarzyna knew at that moment that to leave would be to leave without her head upon her body, for Poniatowski's four bodyguards were standing only meters away and she was unarmed. They were going to force the title upon her and Poniatowski was going to pull her strings.

"If that's the case, I'd like to know precisely what you've planned," she countered, "to make sure there's nothing overlooked that would have all of us hanged."

Maktoum laid out a paper with plans upon it, "The Field Marshal has promised us he can deliver us the cooperation of the Alliance Guard and its new commander, Major General Suvorov. You, Marshal Romanowa, will deliver us the cooperation of the summit's silver-eyed bodyguards, the Silver Guard. Lieutenant Colonel Jaroslaw Tusk and Army Intelligence will be in charge of seizing control of Special Operations Command's headquarters in Visegrad. As for the heads of state, the Comnenian capital of Visegrad will be on lockdown by the 20,000 men of the Alliance Guard. During the summit, I will raise a cup to you, our greatest general. The others will drink alongside me only to discover they've all been poisoned."

Katarzyna motioned to Tokugawa, "Where do the other Marshals fit in?"

Poniatowski took over, his voice gruff, "The 11 Marshals are each in charge of a capital military district in one of the eleven remaining states. They will seize control of each state's government on December fifth. In very short order the entire alliance will come under one unified command. After the heads of state are killed, you will be declared Supreme Commander by Emir Maktoum, Allied Army High Command and the new head of Special Operations Command. At midnight, sealed orders will be unwrapped by every officer in the Allied Army above the rank of Major declaring you their new Supreme Commander. They will be instructed to declare their loyalty to you, or they will face the full weight of your wrath."

"So I'm your foil to be used to scare the men into line," Katarzyna commented. "It's an impressive bit of theater, really, but there's just one thing."

Maktoum frowned, "What is it?"

"Your plan isn't going to work," she told them bluntly. "It takes no account of the navy, nor does it adequately compensate for the Grand Alliance's likely reaction, and it's hard not to notice there is not a single admiral at this meeting. If you genuinely want this to work, I'm going to need emergency powers in case something goes wrong. I will need your authorization for levee en masse conscription of all men between the ages of seventeen and thirty."

Marshal Tokugawa stood up in objection, "That is completely unprecedented! We'll have revolt throughout the alliance—"

Katarzyna stood up to her full height and shot back imperiously, "Which you will have anyways once all the monarchs are dead! The Grand Alliance will launch a non-stop series of offensives as soon as they hear of the coup. The nobility will revolt and appeal to their intervention to restore the monarchies. In very short order the entire countryside will be aflame, and the only way to quench it is overwhelming force, which you can only acquire through conscription. We will have to seize control of all major naval ports, starting with Seville in the southeast. There is one last thing that needs to be done before the surviving members of the royal families become the rallying points of a civil war."

Maktoum leaned forward, "Yes?"

"You have to kill off all members of the royal families on December fifth, wherever they are. I presume that is not beyond the capacity of my fellow Marshals," Katarzyna said.

Poniatowski took a deep breath, "Of course not, Marshal Romanowa."

Marshal Korsakov balked, "You mean we kill even the wee little children?"

She stared into his eyes, "The Grand Alliance is going to throw absolutely everything they have at us after the coup. Any surviving royal will be asking for their aid against the very people they claim to represent. If even one survives it may costs hundreds of thousands if not millions of lives to defeat their supporters. What are the lives of a hundred children against the deaths of magnitudes more? We're in it to win it, gentlemen; if you do not do what is necessary I can assure you our enemies will reward your morals with a hangman's noose. So yes, Marshal Korsakov, you will kill even 'the wee little children'."

* * *

Dietrich woke up from what had seemed a nightmare, her body drenched in sweat and her heart beating hard. She glanced at her small hands as her breathing slowed. The soul-link memories were still with her, and they had gotten so real she'd completely forgotten she was watching a memory. In fact, Dietrich had found the memory so real she had quite forgotten she was not in fact Katarzyna Romanowa; at least not until she had woken up.

Dietrich noticed she was still wearing her black and gold officer's uniform from earlier, and found herself still on the same large blue sofa. It had been a long night, and evidently she had fallen asleep after checking through countless guests' past documents. After blinking her eyes, Dietrich found her boyfriend, the handsome if annoyingly too knowledgeable Jaroslaw Tusk sitting in the center of their manor's large living room. They were surrounded on all sides by literal mountains of papers, all of it dimly lit by a pair of substantial crystal chandeliers.

Dietrich looked up to see many of the candles had been burnt out and decided to light new ones and get back to work. They had been going through the files all evening with over fifty members of the intelligence service, and still no one had found anything pointing to treason. Although that hadn't stopped them from discovering several of their male guests had outstanding allegations of rape, robbery or fraud against them. That information had been promptly sent up to the palace, although no one knew if there would be a reaction.

It wasn't what the Cesarzowa wanted to find out. She was convinced there were traitors in the capital, and given the empress' near-assassination Dietrich was inclined to agree.

Dietrich's foot hit something and she went tumbling down into a pile of papers.

Jaroslaw proved less sleepy than he had looked, for he was at once by her side.

He inquired as he helped her up, "Are you alright?"

Dietrich smiled inwardly at the show of caring while speaking otherwise, "Oh come on Jaroslaw, I'm a silver-eyed slayer. I could get my arm hacked off and still reattach it."

Jaroslaw sounded unhappy, "I was just trying to show some concern, dear."

Dietrich noticed a sheet of paper she'd accidentally clasped in her hand. Unfolding it she noticed a very familiar name atop it: Minhae Choung Park.

"Jaroslaw, have you seen this one yet?"

Her boyfriend rolled his eyes, "I haven't seen the other million and a half yet. Go on and read it for all I care, and next time look where you're walking."

Dietrich sat back down on the sofa and went through the various pages, which made for a far more interesting read than she had imagined. Minhae was only twenty-four, born in the former Duchy of Busan, and known by her famous nickname, "Twin-blade Minhae". She had started her squad life at the early age of twelve, under the tutelage of the late and venerable elite warrior Hu Chaung, who had been killed five years prior by the now equally dead Iron Claws. From there she had served in turn with Victoria McKenzie at fifteen, had co-captained an expedition with her fellow elite Indira Raheja at seventeen, and had even served alongside Sergei Djugashvili by age twenty.

Dietrich found something disquieting about Minhae's service records, particularly her prior service with two of the other elite warriors now in Visegrad. She kept going through the papers, which were bound together in book form. Most surprisingly there were even records of the exact composition of Minhae's past squads, who had lived, who had died, who had been convicted of treason, who had been promoted, who had transferred, and who had awakened. The impressive record-keeping struck Dietrich as exactly like that of the Organization.

Finally she flipped to the last page, but finding nothing, Dietrich flipped back. She paused in surprise to find two of the pages had become glued together. With careful prying, she managed open the pages. These opened to reveal more squad details from the period right after Dietrich, Audrey and Raftela had landed on the mainland. Two months before the December fifth coup a detail was marked "Special Transfer from Victoria McKenzie's squad". No name of the person was provided, but there was one letter: "R".

Moments later she was snapping at Jaroslaw, "Get Duchess up and have her check the scent on Minhae Choung Park's laundry."

Jaroslaw was slow to react given his tiredness, "What?"

Dietrich pointed to the page, "Look at this!"

* * *

9 months prior...

James sat down at the table in the dimly-lit room. Soon thereafter his former flame, the gorgeous Lillian, sat down in her combat attire opposite him. They were seated in the bowels of a fortress in Praha, which was the easternmost major city in the Comnenian Kingdom and the closest to the front lines. Unsurprisingly he'd found it had a large slayer contingent, with the two most famous slayers in residence being Lillian and her controversial friend Victoria McKenzie.

"We've got a lot to talk about, James," Lillian said in a way he'd never heard before.

James nodded before sipping his wine. He'd come all the way from Visegrad on Katarzyna's behalf to talk to Lillian in Praha. Katarzyna was optimistic that Lillian would take up the offer to back the coup, but he wasn't so sure. Say what one could about her sexual tendencies, Lillian took her duties as a slayer in the allied armed forces very seriously.

"I hear you've been made Lieutenant Commander of the Silver Guard," Lillian noted, her beautiful eyes and face just as entrancing as before. "It must be very interesting, protecting all the monarchs and seeing them in all their glory and glamour. I wish I could be there with you and see it all for myself someday."

James inwardly sighed; Lillian had always had a romantic image of monarchy that had little to do with the arrogant, mostly-uncaring pricks he knew as kings and queens. Some of them had interesting personalities, but others like Queen Anna were extremely dangerous and capricious types. Almost all of them were self-interested, which wasn't helpful in an alliance, and the vast majority were not particularly competent at their work. He left this unsaid, as Lillian would doubtless be unhappy to find her glamorous image of royalty didn't match the pompous and callous windbags he knew.

"It can be an amazing spectacle," James politely agreed.

_Yes, amazing, like when Queen Anna decided she'd rather put a knife in Katarzyna's back while she was on an offensive against the Grand Alliance. If you call a spectacle a bunch of monarchs trying their hardest to squabble over theoretical gains and thus lose all initiative in the war, by all means call it a spectacle. I don't blame Poniatowski for hating their guts. _

The thoughts reminded James why he was here, "Lillian, listen, I'm here on behalf of Marshal Romanowa. She wanted me to talk to you about a matter."

"That can wait," Lillian cooed, "something wonderful has happened."

James countered in a huff, "Look, Lillian, the good news will have to wait."

Lillian groaned and rolled her eyes, "I swear you have a way of ruining even the best moment. Look, I don't care what Katarzyna sent you for; just tell me, is there something about how I look that's different?"

He knew it'd be impossible to resist the temptation of giving Lillian the once-over, so he did. She looked much the same as she did, with the same gorgeous face, the big entrancing eyes, the long, exquisitely curly strawberry blond hair, toned, athletic arms and legs, and curves that would make any female slayer dangerously envious.

James quipped, "What, did your tits get bigger?"

For the first time, Lillian actually blushed in response, "Trust you to notice that! Yes, they're a bit bigger, and also a bit softer."

James was sure she was hinting at something, but he had no idea what.

"Lillian," James began again, "the Marshal wants to make you an offer."

Lillian pursed her lips, "You're sleeping with her, aren't you?"

Lillian seemed to have grown more observant since he'd last seen her.

He struggled for words, "How… how did you know that?"

"I'm not an idiot you know," Lillian explained. "And no, I didn't hear that by rumor, but she's not your commander, so I can't think why else you'd be traveling here on her behalf."

"How observant of you," James replied, relieved Lillian hadn't heard anything by rumor.

"I want to get married," Lillian announced, dropping a bombshell.

James felt bamboozled, "That's… that's very kind, Lillian, but I haven't seen you in two years. Now you're saying you want to get married; Lillian, they don't even allow slayers to take marriage vows!"

"That hasn't stopped other slayers," she noted rather dangerously. "I know a priest whose life I saved last month who could do it."

James felt exasperated dealing with her, "Lillian, I don't know why you're such a rush to run down the wedding aisle with me, but it isn't going to work. You're here in Praha, I'll be in Visegrad, and that's on top of me seeing Katarzyna."

Lillian put a stack of papers onto the circular table and pushed them over, "Have a look at these. You'll find that in one week's time I'll be joining your unit on the recommendation of Major Victoria McKenzie. As for Katarzyna, you seeing her last time didn't exactly stop you from climbing into my bed."

"It was wrong of me," James said defensively, "and I've given Katarzyna my word it would not happen again."

Lillian seemed nonplussed, "If she was willing to forgive you sleeping with me last time, she'll do so again. Here's my offer to her; you can marry both of us. If she's jealous of her time with you we'll alternate sleeping with you. Hell, I'd be fine with both of us sleeping with you at the same time if she's up for it."

James crossed his legs and tried to keep the blood from flowing, as Lillian had a way with talking about debauchery that could stir a man's fantasies better than anyone else.

"Lillian, I don't think Katarzyna will tolerate a polygamous marriage," James insisted.

It was an enormous understatement on his part; Katarzyna had threatened to nail his balls to the nearest wall if she found out he was cheating on her again. It may have been a fantasy of his to bed both Lillian and the Marshal, but he wasn't about to dare take up Lillian on her offer. He was too scared of Katarzyna's likely reaction to do otherwise.

Lillian, who was so gorgeous she had no real rivals for men's attentions, had never seemed able to understand Katarzyna's pride or jealousies. Perhaps she might be getting to understand fidelity, James realized, but the monogamous marriage clearly still perplexed Lillian. Her problem-solving of his prior relationship with Katarzyna was classic Lillian. It didn't matter if there was another woman; there was always room for one more.

"Lillian, look, just give me a little time to consider," James pleaded.

Lillian remained confident, "You'll give in eventually."

She patted his stiff member through his trousers, "You always have. Even if she can't take care of you properly, I'll make certain I do. To tell you the truth, I'd forgotten how handsome you were, James. Come now, is there nothing about me that strikes you differently than my tits, dear?"

Lillian reached out and massaged his right hand before holding it in hers, which for Lillian was an unusually loving and caring gesture.

James felt baffled, "You're acting unusually loving and maternal towards me?"

"And I was going to tell you about something wonderful," Lillian added, giving him a doe-eyed, pining expression.

"I'm sorry, Lillian, I don't understand what you're trying to get at," James expressed bluntly, "are you trying to make a hint?"

Lillian lost her patience for once, "You stupid, handsome oaf of a slayer, what do I have to do, hit you over the head with my hints? You know what, fine, I'll tell you that little secret later. You know what else, later tonight you and I are going to make love, and I am not going to take no for a fucking answer James!"

_Holy shit, what the hell did I do to set her off? _

James took a deep breath, "You've changed since we were last together. Why?"

Lillian sounded aggravated, "Most men would have gotten the hint by now, so you're just going to have to wait until I tell you later tonight."

"Ok," James replied, feeling confused.

Lillian smacked the table, "I am not going to accept not being a part of your life, James. We are going to get married and that's final. I don't give a damn whether Katarzyna says no or not; you're going to be my husband. If she cares for you likes she says, then she'll have no choice but to come back to your door."

_Oh she'd come back to my door alright, but it wouldn't be because she can't have anyone else. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._

Lillian huffed in indignation, "Now then, what was her damn proposal?"

James hesitated, "Maybe when you're a better mood—"  
"Nonsense, just say it," Lillian firmly insisted.

James let out a deep sigh before replying, "Marshal Romanowa is anticipating problems in the Visegrad Capitol District and asks you as a friend and comrade to keep matters under control here in Praha in the coming week."

Lillian's eyes narrowed, "What are you two planning?"

James knew immediately this wasn't going to end well.

"Look," James said feebly, "it was just a request from—"

Lillian reached over and dragged him across the table by his collar, "It is not 'just' a request. That was a request to keep things here in Praha under control no matter what else might be going on in Visegrad. What is she up to?"

"She's trying to protect the Alliance," James pleaded.

Lillian reached for his throat and held him upright, "Really, and why might I ask is this request 'to protect the alliance' not going through High Command?"

James winced in pain at her vice-like grip around his throat, "Lillian… stop… you're… you're hurting… me."

Despite his best efforts, Lillian's grip was too strong to shake. He had forgotten just how incredibly strong she was, as he'd always thought of her as a woman and not a warrior.

Lillian opened the door and yelled, "Hey, go get Major McKenzie immediately!"

_Oh shit. _

"I thought… you… wanted us," James gasped, "to be… together."

"And I thought you were a loyal warrior of the Alliance," Lillian countered. "Whatever treason or plots she's cooking up, you would do well to tell me. Victoria is a far harsher interrogator. Now out with it!"

James resisted Lillian's pressures to confess as best he could, but that soon changed when the legendary Victoria McKenzie walked in. The shorter but more pugnacious slayer flung one of her three braided strands of hair over one shoulder as she barged in.

Lillian soon filled in Victoria on the details after they'd tied him down on the table.

Victoria gave him a critical eye as she set down a wicked-looking knife, "So, Marshal Romanowa's anticipating trouble in Visegrad, eh? Why don't you tell us more about this 'trouble' and how she's involved with it?"

James was not about to betray the one woman who could win the war, "You're taking it the wrong way. I meant she thought that she was anticipating a Grand Alliance plot and—"

Victoria didn't seem to hear a word, "You're too attached to do this interrogation properly, Lillian. If you want to get a male slayer to spill his secrets, take him by the balls."

Victoria pulled down his pants and took the knife in hand.

"Wait, we can be reasonable here," James pleaded as the knife approached his manhood.

Victoria turned to Lillian, who was looking distinctly queasy, "If you're going to have an issue, then go outside and don't watch. I'll get it out of him; whether there's much left of his manhood afterwards is up to him."

Lillian rushed out, as if she couldn't bear to watch.

"YOOOOOWWWWW!"

Victoria hadn't even given him a warning; instead she'd simply taken the knife and sliced along the bottom of his scrotum to excruciatingly painful results. James could barely see, such was the pain, although when he looked down he was relieved to see that his balls hadn't fallen out. The cut was very shallow, but it was incredibly painful and bleeding to say the least.

"You fucking cunt," he gasped in pain. "I'll see you in hell for that!"

Victoria didn't seem to care if he insulted her, "Now that I have your attention, let me make this clear. You resist another of my questions and your left ball goes rolling out. Your right ball will follow if it happens again, and then after that, well, you won't have much left to call yourself a man."

James panted, biting his lip, but nothing seemed to help with the overwhelming pain.

Victoria stood over him threateningly with the knife, "Tell me what Marshal Romanowa is planning to do in Visegrad."

He panicked and told her, even though he knew Katarzyna's life could very well hang in the balance. Victoria had kept the questions brief, but had prodded endlessly for details, some of which he didn't know. He was nearly hyperventilating by the end worrying about if she'd take her frustrations with his lack of knowledge out on his manhood. To his immense relief Victoria had not done this. At the end of it all Lillian re-entered the room.

"It's as you feared," Victoria said severely, "the Marshal has gotten drunk on her success and plans to overthrow the High Command. We must act swiftly if we are to stop her. We'll have to take all four hundred slayers here in Praha and a cavalry brigade and head straight for Visegrad. She won't be expecting her former friend to be leading a counterattack against her so soon. With any luck we'll be there by midnight to put it down. One more thing, traitor, is there anyone else in positions of authority supporting her? Speak!"

Victoria was stopped from threatening his manhood again when Lillian objected, "Major, this is barbaric. We can deal with him later, after we've ended Romanowa's plot."

James felt little relief, for his manhood still hurt to such a degree he was breathing hard and biting his lip just to compensate. What little relief he did feel was that he hadn't revealed the true scope of Katarzyna's backing. He may have spilled all about Katarzyna overthrowing the High Command, but the truth was the conspiracy went much farther than that.

Victoria left without another word, while Lillian did the decent thing and put his pants back on. But she wasn't even looking him in the eyes.

James demanded, angry, "How could you let her do that to me?"

Lillian's voice turned icy cold, "I swore an oath just like you. I swore to uphold the charter of the Alliance of Nations and its true-born leaders. You would throw your oath away on a whim, and for what, to sleep with Katarzyna? I can at least keep my honor, unlike you."

James shot back through gritted teeth, "And where's the honor in losing the war? If you kill Katarzyna, the Grand Alliance will kill us all."

Lillian ended the conversation, "But I will still have kept my word, traitor."

Lillian flipped over the table with him atop it. Everything went black at once when his head hit the stone floor.

* * *

What seemed like moments later James opened his eyes, his breath ragged, to find himself back in the present at his manor in Visegrad. He checked under the covers and found his 'crown jewels' just as intact as he had left them before the dream. He was surprised he wasn't even sweating, although he felt distinctly nauseous. The experience of Victoria McKenzie nearly chopping his manhood off and Lillian turning her back on him had been a recurring nightmare in the nine months since the coup.

Two warm bodies were buried under the covers near him. He got up and clambered over the petite Xerina, whose body was dwarfed by the size of the immense canopy bed. He'd hired Xerina and Sarita to enjoy himself and had hoped their presence might infuriate the Cesarzowa. At least if she was furious with him he would know what she truly felt for him. But instead he'd been tasked with guarding Bastia Romanowa in the final week before her due date.

"I'm too tired for that now," Xerina drowsily mumbled as he jumped over her.

He could scarcely comprehend the idea of sex after the nightmare. Instead, his nausea was steadily worsening. He ran out to his bathroom's sink and repeatedly threw up. Almost immediately afterwards he felt better.

He had just put a pair of pants on when the doors to his bedroom slammed open.

James jumped up and snapped, outraged, "Do you know the meaning of a closed door in a slayer's home, Jaroslaw?"

Tusk grabbed him by one arm and tugged him out of the room while saying, "There's no time. We've found evidence Minhae Choung Park was behind the attempted assassination of Her Supreme Imperial Majesty. Get your armor and weapons on and follow me. The Cesarzowa's life is in danger!"

"Ah, so adorable," Rima cooed.

The white-haired, silver-eyed toddler at the center of her affections didn't look so convinced. She looked at the little blue dress and bonnet unhappily.

Chloe threw what to Rima seemed like an adorable tantrum, "I don't wike this. I want to wear pants!"

Rima wasn't wearing her military uniform at present, which featured pants that she too like Chloe preferred. She could sympathize with Chloe, but Katarzyna also expected her to play the role of heiress without fail. Thus Rima found herself in a full black dress with a trailing edge more appropriate in length on a wedding dress, all of it decorated with gold embroidery and countless diamonds and colored gems. Topping it all off was the hat that marked her apart from Bastia as Katarzyna's heir and the Crown Princess of the Romanow Empire. It was an outfit that she quite frankly found ridiculous.

Rima picked up the bonnet off the wooden floor, "Nonsense, you look fine."

They were in the new home the Cesarzowa had set up for the girl while acceptable adoptive parents were found. It wasn't particularly large home, a fact that was clearly obvious from the long faces of some of her escorting Silver Guards. Twenty of them had jammed into the central hall while another twenty were outside with the several hundred-strong detail of Imperial Guardsmen assigned to protect her.

"I want Katar-ina," Chloe said, adorably mispronouncing Katarzyna.

Rima knelt down and handed the girl a doll, which Chloe quickly tucked under one arm, "Your godmother's busy right now. Your nanny says you were having nightmares again. You can sleep next to me in a big girl's bed if it makes you feel better."

Chloe seemed to be having recurring nightmares since her prior caretaker had been murdered. Since Katarzyna had relieved her of all possible other duties, Rima saw no problems with doting on the girl. Katarzyna had even come surprisingly close to adopting Chloe as her interim heir before she bore one to a future husband.

The two-story house Chloe was living in had been built with some expense, being replete with mahogany doors and maple floors. Silver chandeliers lit the two-story high center hall where she now was with Chloe. A single grand door with knocker led out behind Rima's bored and cramped bodyguards, who were wedged into either end of the hall so as to not restrict her personal space with Chloe.

Chloe was more than a little unusual in that she was old enough to have been put into the Alliance of Nations' records but didn't have any. Had she been born more recently, she would have been given over to the care of adoptive parents, preferably also silver-eyed.

Rima decided to see if Chloe knew anything of her parents, "Chloe dear, your godmother's going find some parents for you. Wouldn't you like to have a matka?"

Rima for her part hoped her sister would consider allowing Chloe to be her adopted daughter. Ever since Duchess, Sturm and Drang had gotten big and less cute, it had felt as though there was something missing in her life. Chloe might help change that.

"I don't need a mama," Chloe said, cross.

Rima picked her up and held her, "And why's that?"

"My nanny said my mama's coming to get me," Chloe insisted, unusually verbose for a girl her age.

Rima sighed, "And who's that?"

"My Matka's name was Lillian O'Malley," Chloe said innocently.

If any of the Silver Guards had not been paying attention earlier, it ended at once when Chloe mentioned Lillian. Rima felt too shocked to reply for a moment, but Chloe noticed.

Chloe looked clearly uncomfortable at the sudden attention, "Was I bad?"

"Of course not," Rima reassured Chloe even as her stomach tied itself in knots.

_I brought Lillian's child straight into the Romanow household. Oh hell, how am I going to explain this little complication to Katarzyna? _

Lurking further back in Rima's mind was the worry that Chloe might find out just what had happened to her mother when she got older. Another worry was what might happen to Chloe once Katarzyna found out. Rima knew only too well what her sister had done to children she feared might one day be dangerous enemies.

The moment was interrupted by a tremendous tremor, followed shortly thereafter by another. Chloe shrieked and hugged Rima's bosom tight in an attempt to hide.

Rima however didn't even bat an eye, "Dammit, how many times do I have to tell Duchess to stop walking around after dark? She's scaring half the people in the city! Someone get Chloe up to bed while I go out and see what she wants now."

Chloe was taken out of the hall and suddenly the door opened to reveal a petite female slayer dressed in a black and gold of a military intelligence officer. It took Rima a moment to match the face and bizarre hairstyle to a name.

"Hrabina Tuluzy," Rima nodded, "is something the matter?"

Dietrich caught her breath and blurted out, "We've found information to suggest that Minhae Choung Park was behind the assassination attempt on the Cesarzowa."

"Shit," Rima cursed. "That can't be a coincidence."

Dietrich looked confused, "What coincidence?"

Rima bit her lip as she thought back, "Minhae said she and Indira Raheja were going to pay my sister Bastia and her newborn children a visit. Bastia just went into labor an hour ago. I'm willing to bet anything they're going to kill her before she can give birth. Lieutenant Coelho, who's the Cesarzowa meeting with tonight?"

Coelho, a stocky male Silver Guard, instantly remembered, "Dukes Djugashvili and Wenceslaus, Imperial Highness."

Rima cursed, "Sergei's in on this then. That smile wasn't just a coincidence; he means to kill both Wenceslaus and the Cesarzowa while they're unarmed at the meeting with him. Once they're all dead they'll come for me."

Coelho looked aghast, "But there are Silver Guards at that meeting. How does he expect to survive? No one outside of us is allowed to be armed around her."

"I wish I knew," Rima hissed. "Everyone, listen up, half of you are coming with me to protect Bastia. The others will go with Lieutenant Coelho and save the Cesarzowa!"

Rima found a seam in her dress, unzipped it, and suddenly all but the section above the knees fell to the floor and revealed her calf-length white boots. She threw the unzipped dress at the unlucky Lewis, who found himself covered in woman's clothing.

What was left was an ornate skirt short enough it wouldn't encumber her. She grabbed her massive sword from the hands of a female Silver Guard. This ingenious design had been a personal design of Katarzyan's to combine both aesthetics with emergency functionality.

"You're going with Coelho, Hrabina," Rima snapped. "Silver Guards, move out!"

* * *

Raki was furious, "What, you think I'll just hand over one of my children?"

Ruud van Willems, dressed in his best, tried to reassure, "Raki, look, I need you to calm down and understand what is at stake for the country. It's not healthy for us to be debating the future of the country and have you making accusations against our top general."

Ruud squeezed his left arm, "This is why it would be best for you to swap members of your house. You send them one of yours and Miria sends one of hers."

"I've already heard of your little scheme, Ruud," Raki countered.

Ruud immediately looked disheartened by this revelation.

Raki poured scorn into his voice, "Oh yes, I heard about that little quid pro quo you were trying to set up with Phantom Miria earlier. From what I hear Miria is only willing to adopt Renée and swap her for one of mine. Has Miria gone insane? Swapping an adult claymore for a toddler? It's out of the question! If we do a swap to reassure your pals, Ruud, then Miria sends us Natalie and no one else. Natalie's of Miria's own blood, so she wouldn't dare do anything if we had her in our house. That's my final offer on that matter, Lord Mayor."

He walked off across the cobblestone-paved central square, which was located right in the middle of the Rabona's new citadel. This in turn was located on the western banks of the Toulouse River, and it was enormous compared to prior citadels in Rabona. It was here, in the former Angevin royal palace, that Ruud van Willems had called an unprecedented body called Parliament. From what Raki remembered, it was composed of everyone from elected representatives of burghers, sheriffs, well-connected landowners, and people from across the entire island of Toulouse.

Ruud van Willems was taken aback at his brusqueness.

"Hey, wait up Monsieur Lautrec," the acting Lord Mayor huffed as he ran up alongside, "I wasn't done talking to you."

They were walking towards the Parliament building, which was distinguished by a grand central hall, two large wings, and a multi-story tower in back. Alongside the two of them a small guard of ten Parliamentary Guards was walking.

Raki stopped and stared down the hawk-nosed van Willems, "What's there to talk about? The general called my wife a jealous, backstabbing bitch," Raki reminded.

"After your wife said some equally insulting things and the general overheard her," Ruud less than tactfully reminded. "Raki, I am trying to get a consensus as to how to move this country forward. A lot of the army officers are incensed enough as it is that a non-Orthodox man got elected to represent southern Rabona. How am I supposed to feel safe from them when you go around antagonizing the country's top officer? A lot of my supporters want some kind of reassurance that you and the Malagas' supporters won't start fighting."

"If you can get her to agree to swap, that ought to be more than enough. Besides, I don't like making decisions when paranoia is ruling the day," Raki shot back.

Ruud turned stern-faced, "Is it? Was General Malaga being paranoid when she warned Lord Mayor Zaehringen against uniting the country with Lautrec? Remind me, Raki, how much of Rabona is burnt out since the Angevins' attempted their coup?"

Raki for once couldn't counter Ruud's points.

Ruud nodded weakly, "Going back to the earlier issue regarding taking back your allegations against the General, I—"

"Not again, Ruud," Raki moaned.

Ruud clasped his gloved hands, "You of all people should know there is little proof but for Lady Natalie's participation in this group. General Malaga by all accounts obeyed the law when arrested and nearly died when the Angevins tried to kill her. How can she have been plotting to overthrow the government when she let herself be arrested by a human? She could have killed Galk easily. From what I can tell she had more than enough support in the army to have overthrown Zaehringen months ago."

"That may be," Raki sighed, "but my wife would kill me if I took back that allegation."

"Moving on," Ruud said while clearly exasperated, "you need to apologize for what your wife did to Lady Natalie. Miria is not going to agree to any swap until she hears an apology for her only child being thrown into the shit on the street."

"I didn't know Claire was going to take it out on Natalie," Raki said, feeling cornered.

"Whatever happened, the girl is not at fault for her mother," Ruud pointed out.

"I am not apologizing to Miria after that insult to my wife," Raki declared stubbornly.

Ruud threw his arms out, "We are on the knife's edge, Raki. We could have a coup go down at a moment's notice given the circumstances. I need the military to stay out of politics, and what happens if an officer decides to mount a coup and Miria's too incensed to stop it?"

Raki spat on the cobblestones, "Why is it everything is being demanded of me and not Miria? Where is your demand of an apology from her?"

Ruud sighed, "Raki, politics is not about fairness, it's about who can win. Right now Phantom Miria and her supporters control a resource that accounts for a third of this island's entire wealth. She has massive support from the officer corps after how she behaved during the Angevin coup, and you have not helped matters by becoming a believer in the Triarchy of Gods. Like it or not, Raki, but Phantom Miria's got nearly all the cards except popular support. That's your only trump card, and one she can't afford to ignore. If you can't apologize to her for what happened to Natalie, then apologize to Cid. You two still get along, don't you?"

It was an indirect apology to Miria, but it seemed a lot more tolerable to Raki to apologize to Cid, who was not involved in the spat, than to his wife.

"Alright, fine," Raki agreed, annoyed.

"Thank you," Ruud said, sounding more grateful.

It was just as they were approaching the front gate to Parliament that Raki noticed the claymore Anastasia in her navy-blue leather. Close behind curly-haired Anastasia were three figures in gleaming armor, the sunny day sending an uncomfortable glare into his eyes. Raki quickly recognized the newly-promoted Brigadier General Renée , Colonel Helen Habsburg, and also Captain Matilda van Houten. Aside from Anastasia, who was supportive of Claire's anti-nobility stance, the other three were ardent monarchists.

Raki turned on Ruud, "What is this?"

Ruud van Willems guided him forward with one arm around his shoulder, "Raki, I told Anastasia to bring three of the most prominent monarchist warriors to talk with you. They'll confirm that Miria neither funded nor was aware of what they did in her name."

Raki turned around and began walking away from Ruud and the others.

Ruud called after him, "The members of the Alliance of Nations' High Command didn't go in for compromise, just like you and your wife. Nine months ago they were utterly removed from power. You have the choice to hear the other side out, avoid making their same mistakes and stand up to your wife. You either talk your problems out or you can take a chance that someone will choose to solve the issues with their swords."

Raki stopped and breathed slowly. He knew Ruud was setting him up as a scapegoat should he not turn around and listen to what the three claymores had to say. Anastasia had no doubt been brought in to be a sympathetic moderator of the discussions.

Raki asked Ruud, "You're not going to let me go until I drop the allegations, are you?"

Ruud smiled, "Raki, you may not want to go back on this because of your wife, but I intend to make a man out of you yet."

* * *

"Remember, remember the fifth of December; the silver-eyed treason and plot. I know of no reason, why the silver-eyed treason should ever be… forgot," Alexander recited.

A silver-eyed youngster interrupted, "Watcha saying, Monsieur Alexander?"

He looked up from his desk to find curly-haired, adorable little Teresa watching him, her eyes barely blinking, as was typical of any child at her age. She could not have understood his words, for they were spoken in Comnenian.

"Nothing you should worry about," Alexander reassured his pupil.

"Okee-dokee," Teresa glibly answered.

She rushed off after Victor, both of them squealing with joy as they played a robust game of tag. Teresa rushed out of the room, then came back fleeing from Victor, jumped over his desk in a single bound, and kept going right out of the room.

"Teresa, your parents told you to quit jumping," Alexander yelled after her.

Teresa didn't seem to have heard him, for she went running about like previously.

He'd tried to stay paranoid of silver-eyed slayers of all ages, but there was something uniquely hard about keeping this up around Teresa and Victor. The two had irrepressible amounts of energy, and were, if anything, more likely to hurt themselves than anyone else. Even though it scarcely scratched the surface of his abilities, he'd been taken on as their tutor since arriving in this city they called Rabona. He'd seen maps of where he was finally; about as far from the mainland as Katarzyna could get him.

Ten months ago he had been fourth-in-line to the Comnenian throne. It was at the time the largest of the remaining states in the Alliance of Nations, accounting for three-fifths of its remaining population and three-quarters of its wealth. But that had all changed one bloody day in December, when the military had decided the problem wasn't the Grand Alliance but the ruling families of the alliance. Now the great House of Comnenus, having reigned for six centuries, consisted of only himself. He had utterly excluded Bastia from the family after she'd murdered their mother right in front of him.

_I am the rightful King of Comnenia. _

It felt absurd just thinking it. Katarzyna Romanowa had wiped out his family, and he had never been raised to rule. He had had three older brothers, two of whom his parents trained for the role of king. He'd been the precocious, eccentric boy they never quite knew what to do with, as fourth sons were generally not destined for great things. It was the first-born, his late brother Anton, who was supposed to have inherited it all.

Marshal Romanowa had ended all of that in a single day. In truth her "Romanow Empire" seemed to him nothing more than a Comnenian empire. Its capital city was Visegrad, as had been the Kingdom of Comnenia's. The official language of her court, from what he'd heard, was also Comnenian. The outer states of the alliance had been absorbed into the new hegemon and their ruling lines extinguished, except the line of the treacherous Emir Maktoum.

He had loved Katarzyna once, although he'd known her as Kasia. She was far brighter than any of the 'educated ladies' his parents had hoped he might marry. He'd fallen for her hard, although he tried not to think of her accusation that he'd taken sexual advantage of his rank. It was hard to believe they'd been on the eve of marrying one another a little over two and a half years ago. It seemed like a lifetime ago; the idea of a Princess Kasia now seemed absurd.

"Oof," Alexander gasped as Victor knocked his chair over.

"Watch where you're going Victor," Alexander shouted.

Victor burst into tears and stood before him sucking his thumb.

"It's alright, you just need to look where you're going," Alexander tried to reassure the boy. "I think you two have had enough rough-housing for one day."

Victor's tears seemed to have stopped, which was a relief, as sometimes when one of the twins started crying the other soon followed.

Teresa seemed to find Victor's standing around boring, so to make up for it, she grabbed a nearby broom by the handle. Teresa was about to bring the bristly end down on her brother's head when Alexander intervened and grabbed it in mid-air.

"No, we are not bashing your brother on the head," Alexander told a clearly disappointed Teresa. "Just because you think it's funny doesn't mean it isn't dangerous."

Teresa peevishly replied, "Why?"

"It was dangerous," Alexander said, reproaching her.

Teresa looked confused, "What's dangerous?"

Alexander sighed at the little girl's Toulousain vocabulary, "It means it might hurt."

They were on the third floor of the twins' home in southern Rabona. Alexander saw the sun gleaming outside the windows, which were locked firmly shut for fear of the twins jumping out. He looked around his bare bedroom, which doubled as an office. It featured only a simple wooden bed, a large unfinished dresser, several wall-mounted candlewicks, a desk, a chair, some writing materials, and a pair of plush pillows.

Alexander put the broom away in the room's closet, "How about we have another story time? I just bought a book about the great king Stanislaus and the monster of Praha. Come on, grab your pillows and I'll read it to you."

Victor grabbed his eagerly and sat down on it before the chair, while Teresa sulked and only grudgingly followed suit. She was proving the more troublesome of the pair for Raki and Claire, as her running around had forced them to dress her only in trousers. She also seemed to have a hard time holding her attention on anything for very long. This however he found endearing, as it reminded Alexander of his own personality.

Each of the twins, dressed almost identically in copper-tone trousers and white shirts, settled down to listen as he opened the book.

"A long, long time ago, in the land far, far away," he read aloud in Toulousaine.

The book was in Comnenian, so he didn't have to read it truly, but he found translating it was at least something of an exercise for his mind.

Suddenly he heard shouting far below on the narrow cobblestone streets, so he set the book down, opened the window, tried to hide his disgust as the foul-smelling city air seeped in, and looked down. Below was a column of what seemed like a hundred soldiers all in armor. They had taken up positions on either side of the house's entrance while a crowd of onlookers had gathered to gawk and watch.

"Go, go, go," an officer shouted. "I want those children found!"

A column of soldiers rushed to the front door, which Alexander couldn't see, and a moment later it loudly was smashed open. The maidservant downstairs began screaming.

Teresa inquired, "What's wong?"

Alexander raced back, scooped both twins up, and raced towards the back of the house. It was too late to rush out the back door, so instead he headed towards the secret safe room Raki had told him about one day earlier. He rushed past the stairway, where he could hear the loud footfall and armor of the soldiers climbing the first flight of stairs already. In the house's one unoccupied room there was a quartet of dressers backed up against the wall.

Alexander opened the one furthest to the right and pressed up on a special lever hidden from view at the dresser's top. The false back to the dresser opened to reveal a secret room dimly lit by a small window on the roof. He clambered in, dropped the twins inside, closed the dresser door, and then closed up the false back and locked it. This room had been Raki's idea, as he'd wanted a safe room for the children in case anything happened.

Teresa inquired a little too loudly, "Monsieur Alexander, why are we hiding?"

Alexander put a hand over her mouth and whispered, "Shush, girl, we must play hide-and-seek with some of your papa's friends. If they can't find us your papa wins lots of stuff."

This was the wrong thing to say to Teresa.

She squeaked with excitement, "Like what?"

He held her mouth shut, and moments later he heard soldiers enter into the room from where they'd come. They noisily tramped around and opened the dressers one-by-one.

The same officer from before shouted from far below, his voice faint, "Any sign of the twins? The maidservant swears they're not here, but that's not what our man out in the street claims. Any sign of the man that opened the window earlier?"

Alexander silently cursed for having revealed himself.

"Nothing so far, sir," one of the soldiers shouted back.

"I want this house torn apart until we know for sure they aren't here," the officer shouted back. "Start looking around the front bedroom for any escape doors to the roof."

The soldiers, to Alexander's relief, noisily marched out. He let out a breath he'd been holding in as Teresa looked around. Victor for his part was hugging him rather more strongly than he thought a kid of his age could.

"Victor, not so tight," Alexander urged, easing the boy's grasp around one leg.

Teresa asked, "Monsieur Alexander, are we in trouble?"

"You haven't done anything bad, don't worry," he whispered back.

Teresa pointed up to the small window, "Who are they?"

A pair of soldiers wielding halberds was looking down into the dim room straight at them, having ascended silently onto the roof. Alexander's felt real fear seeping into him.

One of the men looking down got up and shouted over the shoulder, "Captain, we've found the twins and their tutor!"

* * *

In Miata's opinion, it had been a great day. She had been all over Rabona getting whatever she wanted, from ornate diamond earrings to riding outfits. Naturally she hadn't paid for any of it. Rather, she'd let someone else do this, only it hadn't been her mother or Galk. Despite all of her adoptive mother's efforts otherwise, she had finally found a man who wanted her the same way she desired men since she was thirteen: Raul Tierra, Marquis of Pieta.

"It is very nice," Miata complimented as she admired the gold and diamond necklace draped down her neck in the mirror. "I hope it was not too expensive."

Raul Tierra's handsome face and dark hair came into view over her left shoulder in the mirror as he wrapped his arms around her womanly waist.

"Nonsense my dear," the older man insisted, "you'll find expense is never a problem for a man with my pockets."

Miata knew what he meant, for Raul had inherited his late wife Nadia's share of ownership in the great diamond mine near Pieta. Given the voracious demand for diamonds from merchants all over the world, the mine was making all its surviving owners, from "Phantom" Miria to Renée , Helen, Raul, and Nina very wealthy indeed. The late Virginia had in her will stated that her sole blood relation, Camilla, was to inherit her share. This left Raul as the sole man with a stake in the ownership, making him a very eligible bachelor. It didn't hurt that he was also a very handsome man, if a bit shorter than she desired.

Miata felt Raul's hands move up her belly until he held her tight underneath the bosom, "It is good of you to have come back with me to my new manor."

Miata didn't mind Raul's arms being where they were, in fact she felt a jolt of adrenaline and desire rush through her at his touch.

She glanced around the bedroom as Raul lightly kissed her neck. It seemed a nice enough bedroom to Miata, coming complete with a four-post, canopy bed of great size covered in white sheets. The room was lit by a number of chandeliers and four arched windows to either side of the door to the stone balcony. The floor appeared to be finished mahogany, while the walls were trimmed in maple on their upper and lower edges in ornate fashion. Finishing off the room were a pair of massive redwood dressers, a standalone full-length mirror into which she was looking, and a number of end tables and fine wooden chairs.

Raul gestured around with a hand, "I apologize that you can only see this; it's just a guest bedroom. Only the first floor is finished at the moment, and this is one of the few other rooms on the second floor that is. Come, you should see the view from here."

Raul, wearing his finest black and white clothes and feathered hat, led her by the hand, opened the door. Miata sighed at the magnificent view. To the right was the imposing new Parliament building in stone and brick, while to the left was what once was to be the Lord Mayor's palace. It was a red sandstone structure complete with gothic gargoyles and a steep gable roof. To the west was a cathedral that was barely started, while the square's center was filled with a produce market and hundreds of people haggling over the best deals of the day.

Raul spoke like a proud father, "Magnificent view, isn't it? Given how recently they built the citadel it's a small miracle the manor is even as finished as it is. When I heard Zaehringen was having all of government moved to a citadel here, on the western banks of the Toulouse River, I knew I'd want to have a home close to the action. This will be the biggest and finest of all the manors inside the citadel."

Miata felt a twinge of unease at being seen with him on the balcony, "Shouldn't we go back inside? There are a lot of claymores that come here to the capitol citadel."

Raul smirked, "Worried about your adoptive mother, are you? I thought you said you weren't like that coddled, over-protected Natalie. Are you a woman or just an overprotected girl of a claymore?"

"I may be fifteen, but I'm nothing like Natalie," Miata snapped, defensive. "If I were like Natalie I would have stopped seeing you a week ago when my mother demanded it," Miata added with scorn. "She was freaking out just because she'd heard rumors I went on a few dinner dates with a man twice my age. I thought it was normal for women my age to be married and she's acting like I'm still ten!"

Raul kissed her once on the cheek before they held hands, "Don't worry about Clarice, my dear. She hasn't been able to stop you before, and besides, everyone knows she has the spine of a jellyfish, or else Galk would never have been able to send in that letter defending polygamy. Besides, you're not even young for a relationship by Rabonese standards. My cousin was twenty when he married his then 12-year-old wife."

Miata broke somewhat less assuring news to Raul, "My mother says if we don't stop seeing each other she's going to get Cid involved.

Raul paused before smiling, "Well, that would be a problem if Cid were to be involved. Thankfully I know him well. The last thing Cid likes to do is get involved in the affairs of others. He prefers to see himself as a sort of heroic man, and I suppose he's not wrong given how he nearly killed the Awakened monster Agatha."

The next moment they both looked away, as the square's occupants were startled as a column of armored soldiers ran past straight towards the Parliament building. Raul hardly seemed to bat an eye; in fact, it looked almost as if he were grinning.

Miata gasped, "Are those soldiers going there to overthrow the government?"

Raul seemed nonplussed, "Probably. It's nothing for you to worry about or intervene in, my dear. Parliament is getting out of control, and it's time the Army forced some of the heretics out of it and allowed only true Orthodox men of character in the government."

Miata objected as the men reached Parliament's gates, "But what about Raki?"

Raul looked straight into her eyes with great confidence, "Trust me, my dear, no one would last long if they tried to kill off Raki. My guess is General Malaga finally got tired of the political games going on and is making certain the adults in Rabona are in charge, not the squabbling, corrupt politicians. Raki will have no choice but to go along with her whims."

Miata glanced back when she heard screams of pain. The soldiers and the Parliament's guards were engaged in a vicious, lethal fight. However, even as she watched, the far greater numbers of soldiers were pushing the guards back.

"But they're killing the guards," Miata objected more urgently.

"A necessary evil and most unfortunate, but you've never been one to have problems with killing before," Raul noted.

Miata felt a twinge of guilt at the butchery she'd inflicted without hesitation upon the royal bodyguards of King Philippe. But it was only a twinge.

"Trust me Miata, I'm Marquis of Pieta and a member of the Conseil des Seigneurs, I know what I'm talking about. This country would be far better off under the Army's protection and with Miria as queen."

Miata noticed the guards at the outer gates had been finally overwhelmed and forced to fall back. The soldiers charged towards the entrances as Raul wrapped an arm around her shoulder and guided her back to the balcony door.

Raul reassured her as he opened the door and ushered her in, "The best thing for us to do is go inside and not interrupt matters. I'm sure General Malaga will have everything under control very shortly."

"If you say so," Miata reluctantly agreed.

_Am I doing the right thing not acting? Well, if Raul says not acting is the right thing, he must know. After all he's a lord with years of experience and I'm just fifteen. _

"I feel like celebrating this day," he declared once they were inside.

Naïvely she asked, "But how are we going to celebrate it?"

Raul fondled one of her budding breasts, which gave her an incredible sense of joy, "It's time we got to know each other as man and woman."

Raul surprised her by grabbing her close and passionately embracing her, his hands upon her behind as they shared what to her seemed an incredible kiss. She didn't want whatever was about to happen to stop; she felt as if she could practically fly on emotions alone as they embraced. This was the moment she'd been waiting for ever since she'd felt a desire to be with men. She could care less what her mother Clarice thought or of the politics going on outside their door. All she wanted to do was fool around with a grown man and discover what it was her mother had so frantically been trying to keep from her.

Miata didn't know how, but her body seemed to know what to do in their frenzy of kisses, groping arms, and interlocked legs. Together she and Raul fell onto the massive bed, him atop her, her arms around him. She heard him unzipping her one-piece black leather top long before she felt it slipping. For her part, Miata took off Raul's boots and felt a surge of excitement. Finally Raul had undone the last of the zipper and flung her top off.

* * *

Raki had never seen such a cacophony as he had in the Parliament building. The rectangular chamber where the 147 members conducted business was surprisingly modest in size. A speaker's chair on a raised platform made of redwood and red velvet dominated one side. The entrances to the chamber were behind it in the left and right corners. Three stands of green-backed seats and desks dominated the rest, each of these having four rows. Each row was elevated higher than the last, giving the room the look of a bowl. Lighting the room were a half dozen grand chandeliers and a set of massive stained-glass windows showing scenes from the founding of the Rabona Orthodox Church.

Raki and his allies had taken the far end opposite the speaker, as his group of republic enthusiasts was the smallest, although by a slim margin. Hawk-nosed Ruud van Willems and his moderates, the largest group, were seated to Raki's left as he looked towards the speaker. Opposite Ruud van Willems was a man who looked strikingly similar to Francois Galacon, the man Raki had known as "Galk" for years. As it turned out, the bearded, tall brown-haired man was Galk's brother, Gaspar Galacon. Unfortunately Gaspar was proving just as much a pro-Miria royalist as his brother Galk.

The white-haired, black-robed speaker banged on his desk as the din of arguments and discussion rose to a crescendo, "Order, order, there will be order!"

Eventually things quieted down enough for the speaker, "The chair recognizes the honorable Monsieur Galacon from the town of Hanse."

Gaspar, dressed in a fine yellow and blue vest, black trousers and knee-length boots, stepped up to his group's podium, "Merci, Monsieur Speaker. With regards to the Parliamentary Supremacy Bill, I find it absurd."

A chorus of boos rang out from Raki's caucus and many from Ruud van Willems' as well.

Gaspar waited for them to die down before continuing, "I find it absurd that some members of this Parliament think that they know better than our army as to the selection and promotion of our future officers. This bill puts a committee of civilians with no military experience in charge of military affairs. Who here truly desires to leave such matters in the hands of military illiterates? We all know such matters are better left in the hands of capable men like my brother."

Raki rose to the podium and dusted off his all-black attire to counter, "Honorable Monsieur Galacon, is this the same brother that arrested General Miria Malaga when it should have been apparent to all that Zaehringen's orders were politically motivated?"

A part of Raki hated having to address everyone as "honorable", but Ruud van Willems had insisted on a certain level of civility to proceedings.

A chorus of cheers went up from Raki's caucus while Gaspar's faction heartily booed in reaction to Raki's point.

Gaspar immediately stood up to his podium for his rebuttal, "I was unaware that the honorable gentleman from southern Rabona was so concerned for the general. Why, just last week I recall he accused her of a plot to overthrow this country's lawful government! So it is with a glad heart that I congratulate Monsieur de Lautrec with finally seeing the light."

Raki fumed as a chorus of laughter broke out throughout the chamber, and out of the corner of his eye he noticed Claire in the gallery in her black maternity attire. She did not look at all happy with what he'd just said.

_I'll be in for it tonight. _

Raki reluctantly took to the podium, "I recently had a conversation with the honorable Monsieur van Willems and three of the alleged conspirators, Brigadier General Renée , Colonel Helen Habsburg, and Captain Matilda van Houten. I was…"

He hesitated as he noticed Ruud van Willems looking over with an expectant and blunt stare that seemed to say, 'Don't you dare back out on me now.'

Raki continued slowly but sped up as his confidence returned, "I was… reassured by the Lord Mayor's investigation that the general never funded nor intended to fund a coup against the government. The three officers reassured me their goal was the popular acclaim of Miria as Reina, not a military takeover."

Raki hated every moment as he said the words, for he'd been forced into this mea culpa by Ruud van Willems' insistence that his accusations were creating tensions with the army.

Raki gritted his teeth before finishing, "I regret that in the heat of my wife's disagreements with the general I may have lost perspective and falsely accused her. I would like to take back my prior statement."

Gaspar looked as if he didn't know what to make of this mea culpa. A few of his constituents were even politely clapping. Raki's caucus for their part had gone silent, while Ruud van Willems was vigorously clapping alongside his entire faction. It was not the most comfortable position Raki had ever been in.

The speaker motioned to the Lord Mayor, "The chair recognizes the honorable Monsieur from eastern Rabona."

"Merci, Monsieur Speaker," Ruud said in his always confident voice, "I'd like to thank Monsieur Lautrec for his honesty and integrity. With regards to the measure under discussion, the committee will be composed of members of Parliament, but only the most qualified ones."

Gaspar visibly rolled his eyes as Ruud made his point.

Ruud van Willems didn't miss this at all, "Perhaps if the honorable Monsieur Galacon had actually taken the time to read the bill he would have noted that the committee is jointly responsible with the army's top officers for oversight of military affairs. It appears the 'honorable' Monsieur Galacon would rather be an ignorant, reactionary blowhard than even be competent enough to read the bill!"

Raki tried hard not to grin as a roar of laughter and approval rose up from his caucus. Ruud van Willems' entire caucus stood up and cheered, some members clapping while others were taunting Gaspar Galacon. Gaspar Galacon's men immediately stood up and booed, while some were shouting "shame, shame!" A few even took to giving Ruud van Willems an obscene gesture with their fingers.

"Order, all members will desist from disrespectful gestures towards their peers," the white-haired speaker shouted as loud as he could, which was barely audible over the din.

Ruud van Willems was smiling as he continued once the din had quieted some, "As you know, I am open to compromise with my esteemed colleagues from Hanse and southern Rabona. The honorable Monsieur Lautrec has demonstrated that his party is willing to compromise and be honest in the interests of our fine country. Where I have seen no effort is from my esteemed colleague from Hanse. In fact, the 'honorable' Monsieur Galacon seems to prefer dividing this country by stoking religious tensions rather than ensure that we are united against our enemies."

Gaspar jumped to his feet as the noise levels exploded once more. Unfortunately, Ruud van Willems' point was not the only thing that had caused this, for at the end of his speech Claire had walked into the chamber. Although she was in her maternity attire, she had her claymore sword slung over her back, which was in violation of more than a few rules. She was walking straight towards him with a stare that might be reserved for someone deserving of a painful injury. Despite the best efforts of the Parliament's guards to remove her she walked onto the floor between the members to a chorus of yelling.

Raki sighed and hid his face with a hand.

_I tell her to keep out of this and she does this. I'm never going to hear the end of this._

"Madame de Lautrec will remove herself from the floor," the Speaker demanded.

Claire paid him about as much attention as a gnat.

Gaspar didn't miss his chance, "Perhaps the honorable Monsieur van Willems will have noticed by now that one of our parties is led by a henpecked husband of a heretic!"

A throaty roar of approval and laughter erupted from his caucus, causing Claire to glare over in their direction, which did little to quiet them. Instead, it only seemed to increase their taunting and laughter.

"Claire," Raki sighed as she walked up, "what the hell are you doing? You know you can't be on the floor, and you should know better than bringing your sword."

Claire was clearly not about to let go of her hatred for the royalists, "What the hell am I doing? What the fuck was that apology to Miria for? The Raki I married would never have lost his balls when it came to political courage!"

The speaker pounded his gavel, "Madame Lautrec will remove herself from the floor!"

Claire turned around and was about to give him an intimidating stare when at once the whole atmosphere changed. Screams and sounds of battle rang out from behind both entrances to the Parliament. The four armored guardsmen trying to get Claire out rushed to the doors. They were too late, for dozens of armored infantrymen with long halberds had entered. The guardsmen at once gave themselves up while a collective roar of disapproval ripped throughout Parliament, from van Willems' caucus, through Raki's caucus, and even surprisingly to Gaspar Galacon's royalists.

Ruud van Willems screamed, "Treason! This is treason! Remove your men from the floor this instant!"

Gaspar Galacon vehemently denounced the troops striding in, "Outlaw them!"

This surprised Raki, as he had expected Gaspar to welcome an army takeover.

An ornately armored man strode forward as his men ringed the edges of the floor. The officer removed his helmet to reveal fine blond hair and a pair of shrewd blue eyes. Raki knew the face instantly as he shoved the elderly Speaker from his chair with little care for his frailty. It was Brigadier General Soult, a man known for his devout Orthodox faith and reactionary political views. Claire put a hand on her sword in reaction to his arrival.

Raki held her back from drawing, "No, Claire, you're pregnant! You can't risk the baby like this," he pleaded.

Soult's voice boomed, "In the name of the Royal Army of Toulouse, this body has been dissolved due to endangering the welfare of the state. All control over government will be handed over to the proper military authorities."

"You have no right," Ruud van Willems shot back, defiant. "Go on, kill your own compatriots and prove what loyal sons of Toulouse you all are!"

A number of Soult's soldiers were clearly unnerved by van Willems' talking.

"Remove that man," Soult shouted to his men.

Claire unsheathed her blade, "Not if I have anything to say about it!"

Soult chuckled, "That's very brave of you, Madame Lautrec, but very foolish. You're pregnant and we knew you and your husband would resist before coming."

Raki heard the crossbowmen marching into the galleries above the chamber floor before he glanced up and some over a hundred of them. Each had their weapons trained on Claire.

Claire scoffed, "You mean to detain me with a hundred crossbowmen?"

Soult strode confidently over, "Hardly. I knew a claymore of your impeccable fighting reputation would never go down without a bloodbath. But of course there are other things in this world that would make you think twice."

Raki felt his heart sink and fear fill him as it never had before.

Claire's voice turned cold, "What have you done?"

Soult gave her a wicked smile, "Why, I took precautions, Madame Lautrec. Your children are in our custody, so one wrong move and dear little Teresa and Victor's lives will be forfeit. Hand over your sword and I promise they won't be harmed."

Claire fainted.

Raki shouted out in alarm, "Claire!"


	21. Chapter 20: Irreversible Decisions

**Chapter 20: Irreversible Decisions**

* * *

**Excerpt from "The Struggle for Toulouse's Soul"**

**By A. Comnenus**

**Sailors and women from the Sevillan, Haaraleenese and Bretonese homelands first settled and mixed together on the Isle of Toulouse some thousand years before the island was liberated from the Organization's rule. Judging from archaeological records that are still intact, it seems the early islanders worshipped the God of all the Heavens. It was an ancient religion, dating back to its founding in the mainland city of Seville some fifteen hundred years before the island was settled. It was only the second monotheist faith ever founded, and unlike the first, Yahudaliyyan, it was spread by proselytizing and conversion of non-believers.**

**With its long isolation upon the Isle of Toulouse, this religion morphed. Around 400 years after first being settled, the Rabona Orthodox Church was founded. Its tenets were very similar to those of Heavenism, with two major exceptions. Its believers believed that a truer vision of a path to the heavens had been shown by the angels Teresa and Claire. Another difference was that Heavenism had very little formal hierarchy amongst its priests, while the Rabona Orthodox Church was strictly hierarchical. When the new Holy Scriptures were set down in writing and standardized some 100 years after its founding, it was all done under the strict guidance successive Bishops of Rabona, the title given to the church's top priest.**

**The Bishop of Rabona commanded an army of thousands and ruled over a theocratic state, and as church rule expanded, donations from the faithful flooded the church's coffers. Four hundred years after being founded the church experienced a crisis. A heresy rejecting material wealth sprang up in response to the church's growing corruption. Bishop Pierre III reacted viciously and created the 1st Inquisition to root out the heretics and put them to death. This backfired badly when one of his priests, Jean Lautrec, appalled at church-endorsed atrocities, defected to the western 'heretics'. Jean Lautrec, through sheer force of personality, took command of the rebels and their faith. Within a few years his men had inflicted crushing defeats on Rabonese forces.**

**The church's grasp shriveled as it pulled back to safeguard Rabona from growing lawlessness, leaving Lautrec the undisputed leader of the western peninsula that would bear his name. Jean, never one to waste a good opportunity, preached a new message. Teresa and Claire, he insisted, were not angels but compassionate goddesses who would appeal to the Great Father above to be lenient in his justice against sinners and compassionate to the poor. By the time of his death, Triarchy, the belief in the trinity of Gods, was taking hold throughout the island's west.**

**When the Organization subtly took over a century later, it was made easier by this fracturing of faiths and political authority. Once the Organization was defeated, this suppressed religious conflict soon came back to the fore. Riots and tensions between Orthodox and Triarchs finally boiled over after the devout Triarchs King Philippe and Queen Violetta tried to overthrow the government. Raki de Lautrec, no supporter of theirs, soon found himself branded almost as traitorous by Orthodox faithful for living openly as a Triarch in the holy city of Rabona…**

* * *

Cid didn't know what he liked less, the fact that Natalie was late or the fact that he had to talk to her about her pet tiger yet again.

He cursed quietly while tapping the table he was seated upon, "Damn that girl, where the hell is she?"

He was waiting in the entrance of the manor he and Miria owned on the Île des Poires, which was on a river island south of Rabona's massive walls. It was a nice enough place, full of tapestries, fine stained-glass windows, magnificent new Maghrebi carpets, ornate Comnenian chandeliers, Bretonese port, Asturian silverware and much more. With the family's bank vaults nearly overflowing with foreign gold, silver and currency used to pay for diamonds; Miria had gone on a buying spree. He had persuaded her to tone it down a notch, but it did sometimes seem useless, as the family was being deluged in seemingly endless wealth. As such he couldn't really object to Miria's massive expansion plans for their residence on the Île des Poires.

All this extravagant wealth had also transformed Miria's kindly maternal nature into doting on and spoiling Natalie with gift after expensive gift. It was aggravating enough for Cid that he and Miria had had a row over just how to raise Natalie. It was after he'd left to let things cool down that an issue had come up regarding Natalie's pet tiger, Dabi.

He heard vague sounds through the manor's thick and well-chiseled granite, and seconds later, Natalie walked in through the mahogany front door. Cid sighed inwardly when he noticed Natalie was wearing yet another fancy dress, this one adorned with diamonds and full of rich red and gold fabric. Cid cringed just thinking about the price tag.

"Bonjour Papa," Natalie greeted him as she walked in.

"Natalie, we need to talk about your cat," he declared.

Natalie scarcely seemed to pay this much serious attention, "Oh come on Papa, what's he done this time, gone to the bathroom in the house? I trained him too well for that."

She was just about to walk by when he reached out and grabbed her by the arm, "Dabi killed the neighbor's dog."

Natalie squirmed out of his grasp, "Dad, you shouldn't touch a girl!"

Cid snarled, "I am your father, Natalie! Your cat swam across the river and killed the Janssen's Allemanian Shepherd Dog. They're demanding compensation and the rest of the neighbors want your cat euthanized for their safety. The maids were refusing to work in the house as long as he was allowed to wander free. I had to lock him up outside in a big pen just to save him from himself."

Natalie, ever protective of her favorite cat, reacted badly, "Dabi wouldn't hurt a fly if he wasn't provoked. That stupid dog kept barking and snarling at him and—"

"He's a 150-pound wild predator, Natalie," Cid countered, "and it's high time you realized we cannot keep him like we would a housecat."

"He is perfectly tame," Natalie pleaded, "I'll train him like nothing else and…"

Cid scarcely paid any attention to Natalie's rationalizing; tigers after all were never meant to be pets.

He started paying attention again right as Natalie finished her long rant, "…and how do the Janssen's even know it was Dabi? I bet it was one of the local wolf packs that—"

"Your cat dropped the Janssen's dog's body in front of me this morning as if he expected me to reward him," Cid cut her off.

Natalie was flummoxed for once, but before she could respond there was a pounding on the mahogany door.

"I'm busy right now," Cid shouted, "if you have a message or gift just leave it in the mailbox!"

The man outside ignored this and rushed in, falling to his feet, breathless, "I humbly beg your pardon, Comte Malaga, but it's urgent. Brigadier General Soult has sent troops into the Parliament. It's a coup!"

Cid was surprised to find this did not make him nervous, rather he felt a sort of deadly calm settle over him like he felt when trying to kill Agatha.

Cid helped the young man to his feet, "You did well, young man. Are you Ruud van Willems oldest boy?"

"I am," the brown-haired younger man gasped, "just please hurry, my father's in there!"

Cid rushed into down the grand staircase to the manor's basement, and moments after walking in he found the arms locker. He heard footsteps as he slung a sword-belt around his waist and looked up.

Natalie gawked, "Dad, what are you doing?"

Cid sheathed his old sword and attached it to the belt, "Your mother is out in the field, and last I checked she would never tolerate a coup. I'm going to warn her before it's too late."

Ruud van Willems' boy interjected, "But what if she's behind it?"

Cid stared at the boyish face of Ruud van Willems' son, "If it's come to that, Hans van Willems, I am going to beat some sense into my wife."

* * *

Alevtina felt distinctly uncomfortable watching from several meters away as Wenceslaus settled into his seat. Seated opposite him was a silver-eyed female slayer who had only days previously been introduced to them as Kasia Romanowa. She was wearing a spectacular white and gold-braided military uniform, and standing to either side of her were Silver Guards in full duratium plate armor. One of them Alevtina instantly identified as Katja Tymoshenko, the bizarrely-named Silver Guard Commander of Bengali descent. Wenceslaus put it all together before Alevtina could.

"Rather bold of you, Cesarzowa," he complimented while pouring himself a cup of tea. "Meeting me under a false identity to gauge my true personality was either the most brilliant or foolish thing you could have done. It was also disrespectful," Wenceslaus told her bluntly.

Alevtina felt her stomach clench; there was nothing she feared more than Wenceslaus' stubborn pride running into the Cesarzowa's well-known prickly demeanor.

The caramel-skinned Cesarzowa smirked, "Strange how those things tend to go together. I suggest you get over your stubborn demand for respect; I am not marrying a man sight unseen without judging him with my own eyes. As it is, we've matters to discuss, which is why I invited you out to the Temple of the Eight."

Katarzyna gestured to the immense open temple around them. Its roof was hundreds of feet overhead, all of it supported by eight immense granite columns. Next to each column on the temple's interior floor were large shrines, each in turn dwarfed by the columns flanking them. At least fifty Silver Guards and twice that number of Imperials Guardsmen were standing about on guard duty lighting the area with torches. Alevtina could only see darkness as she looked out into the gardens, which was disappointing, as she had heard they were magnificent sights.

The Cesarzowa's tone changed, "As for disrespect, I seem to recall you allowed the people of Seville the vote. Perhaps you can tell me what they did with it that has so upset the entire Romanow family."

Alevtina's stomach clenched as Wenceslaus set his tea down and eyed his empress warily, "If you want the people of Seville on your side in the future, you need to give them a voice in their governance. Whatever their assembly votes for is the genuine wish of a free people. I seem to recall you advocated for the freedom of slaves early in your reign. What's wrong with granting the people a vote?"

Katarzyna rose to her feet and in a commanding voice countered, "What's wrong? The first thing they voted to do was to outlaw inter-racial marriage. Your 'freedom-loving' Sevillans loved freedom so much they decided to strip it from everyone who disagreed with their bigotry and in the process insulted my entire family! So congratulations, Duke Wenceslaus, for empowering a bunch of bigots and showing what a sham democracy is."

Wenceslaus calmly stood up, "It is the democratic will of the people, and we ignore it at our peril. The arc of history is long, but I am confident that the people of Seville will come to change their minds with time and persuasion. You cannot mandate such change from on high."

The Cesarzowa and Wenceslaus stared each other down, "You believe in the inherent goodness of mankind, Duke Wenceslaus?"

"It's the one thing that sustains me," Wenceslaus admitted.

Katarzyna brushed a wavy length of hair out of one eye as she said, "Then it must pain you to remember that those same Sevillans actively demonstrated for the Alliance High Command to use Awakened against insurrection in the Bengali Empire. Must be a terribly hard thing for you to do, rationalizing away their support for the indiscriminate murder of five million people. I happen to remember the 'good people' of Seville from my childhood. Perhaps my experience may prove of interest."

Wenceslaus looked disheartened for once, "Cesarzowa, I did not mean that all people are good. There are certainly some people who do not care for the well-being of others."

Romanowa smirked, "Some? When my father moved to Seville when I was seven, the mayor was there to greet us the first day he took me to school. Not to welcome us, but to inform my father that his 'bi-racial abomination of a daughter' wouldn't be allowed to attend. Afterwards we were stoned by the schoolchildren as we left, all of them under the age of twelve. Two private tutors refused to teach me because I was a symbol in their eyes of my father's unforgivable sin of marrying a woman outside his race. Eventually he hired a blind scholar who couldn't tell my race; to him I sounded Comnenian."

The Cesarzowa sat down and smirked, "Ironic, isn't it? The only man who didn't care about my caramel skin was the one who couldn't see it. Of course it was no better when we moved to the Luo Triarchy when I was nine. I was spat upon and called a 'fake Bantu' and 'whitey'. Few blacks or whites wanted anything to do with a mixed-race 'abomination' like me. It's strange to see what becoming silver-eyed and successful does to bigotry. Now I can't go anywhere without my people of either race trying to claim I am in fact one of them."

Wenceslaus looked like he had made an unhappy realization, "Cesarzowa…"

The Cesarzowa left no room for doubt, "There is no force under the heavens that will convince me to ever hand over government control to people like that. You think people are good because you fit in, Duke Wenceslaus, but people like myself were treated like dirt because we were different. So don't tell me the people want freedom. They want freedom for people who look like them and to run roughshod over those who don't. If you want…"

Katarzyna Romanowa trailed off at the noise of an approaching visitor.

Katja Tymoshenko leaned over and whispered something into the Cesarzowa's ear.

"He wasn't supposed to be here for another half hour," Romanowa fumed.

Alevtina soon knew why the Cesarzowa looked unhappy; Sergei Djugashvili was walking up the steps to the temple trailed by four unarmed members of his entourage.

"Cesarzowa," Sergei bowed briefly, "I thought I'd arrive early to our meeting, but I can see you're already meeting with Wenceslaus. Why?"

The look of annoyance on Katarzyna Romanowa's face said it all, "Why? I am discussing issues about the governance of Seville with Duke Wenceslaus, which you have rashly decided to interrupt."

Sergei was wearing a single piece of plate armor over his chest, but was otherwise wearing an outfit featuring the puffy sleeves and rich colors that were in fashion at the Romanow court. He looked dressed to meet the Cesarzowa and rather flamboyant compared to Wenceslaus, who was wearing a black and white-striped elegant outfit in contrast. Wenceslaus, who was usually very hard to anger, was looking at Sergei with visible annoyance. Sergei gave Wenceslaus a knowing smirk in reply.

Sergei's long hair fluttered in the night breeze as he crossed his arms, "Cesarzowa, I am here because of an unjust investigation against me. Why is my good name being besmirched by your intelligence agents?"

_Wait, what? Dietrich's investigating all possibilities behind the assassination, not just Sergei. Why does he think this is about him?_

The Cesarzowa frowned, "I have a better question. I'd like to know who told you about the investigation and why you think it's centered on you."

Hell broke out in the space of a heartbeat, for Sergei's right arm explosively expanded as it awakened. It grew into obscene-looking series of octopus-like arms, one of which raced towards Katja Tymoshenko. Before Katja was even able to draw her sword she'd been sent flying into the nearest column and knocked unconscious. A dozen other Silver Guards were similarly unprepared for the sudden assault and sent flying.

Katarzyna Romanowa, who was unarmed, was grasped tightly by three of the tentacles and held in mid-air. Wenceslaus in contrast reacted so fast Alevtina could have sworn his movement was blurring. When five tentacles raced his way, he may have been unarmed but he managed to jump out of the way of two, kick another to the side, smash the next approaching tentacle into the ground, and then tore the last tentacle apart. Alevtina was left untouched, as were the forty remaining Silver Guards who had all drawn their weapons and encircled the temple. Sergei however seemed unconcerned.

Sergei turned to his male followers, "Boys, why don't you even the odds?"

Four transformations in a few seconds later, a quartet of powerful and gruesome-looking Awakened beings were in a tense standoff with the Silver Guard. Sergei's transformation was far less, with only one arm transformed into a swarm of tentacles, leaving him otherwise human.

"You piece of scum," Wenceslaus spat as he picked up a sword, "have you lost all your sense? You turned yourself into a monster just so you could seize power?"

Sergei gave a sinister smile right back, "But that's where you're wrong Wenceslaus. I awakened long ago; it's just that now that the Cesarzowa has so generously defeated the Grand Alliance's invasion, I won't be under Stahl Fang's grasp like we agreed before his invasion. It will be as the world intended; the world's greatest power will be led by an Awakened."

Alevtina felt sick to her stomach as Sergei and Wenceslaus prepared for a conflict that would decide the fate of the world.

* * *

"I don't like this," Indira complained as she readied her duratium-forged halberd.

The brown-skinned slayer glanced over her weapon and armor as she readied for what was surely a history-defining moment.

Minhae Choung Park could only sigh in agreement, "What do you expect? We counted on Raftela's guarantee that the Cesarzowa would be dead by her hand. I told Sergei we shouldn't have trusted someone who was out purely for revenge."

Indira's long pigtails whipped around in the dull light of the barracks, "What did she want revenge for again?"

Minhae sheathed both of her lethally-sharp Katanas and replied, "The girl wanted vengeance for her former commander, Lillian O'Malley. If she had done it silently like I'd advised we wouldn't have to be arming ourselves now. The idiot apparently tried to kill the Cesarzowa while she was still awake."

Worry crept into the shorter, brown-skinned slayer's voice, "Then why precisely is Sergei going to try killing both Wenceslaus and Katarzyna while they're both awake?"

Minhae rarely felt anxiety course through her body, but now she did. She was one of the six "elite warriors" known for taking out a Smok regularly in one-on-one combat. Two of those six, namely Bastia and Rima Romanowa, were members of the Cesarzowa's family. A third, Wenceslaus, was downright hostile to Sergei. It had not been hard to come to the conclusion that in order for a coup to work, all three of these warriors and the Cesarzowa had to die. Ordinarily Minhae would have felt extremely confident in pulling off the killing of three elite warriors by surprise attack, but the Cesarzowa was no ordinary slayer.

"You worry too much about Sergei," Minhae reproached Indira. "There is nothing that can stop him becoming Cesarz. It's why we support him; to try to stop him would be a death sentence. No slayer of his strength has ever awakened, survived, and successfully hidden his new state. As strong as he is, Wenceslaus won't be expecting what Sergei has in store. It'll likely be over in seconds."

"Pity," Indira Raheja murmured, "I was rather hoping there'd be an epic fight."

"Better not," Minhae cautioned.

Minhae felt the pauldrons upon her shoulders being pulled tight.

"That's good," Minhae approved, "it feels secure."

The silver-eyed male warrior adjusting her armor nodded silently. Minhae looked over her armor and that of Indira's. They were both wearing the standard plate armor of slayers, with a full cuirass protecting their torsos, tassets protecting part of their upper legs, armored boots upon their feet, pauldrons protecting their necks, shoulders and upper arms, and gauntlets protecting their hands, wrists and lower arms. It was all made of steel, unlike the unbreakable duratium plate armor of the Silver Guards, but it was lighter. It also protected them against arrows, which for a slayer could quickly go from hindrance to lethal in high quantities.

They both put on their simple steel helmets, which had noseguards but still allowed a wide field of vision. Minhae glanced back in the dim, candle-lit confines of the stone barracks to find ten of her loyal comrades similarly armed and armored.

"Remember there is to be no use of yoki energy while we move towards the palace," Minhae told them sternly. "Nine other groups of our warriors will coalesce around ours as we approach, so I want this approach quiet and over the rooftops. We're going to be killing off the most dangerous of the Romanow warriors first. Rima will follow; just leave them and the Silver Guards to us when possible."

Minhae followed Indira out into the pitch-black night, as the coup had been fortuitously timed with an eclipse of the moon. This had less to do with planning and more with coincidence, as the Romanows' investigating had spooked Sergei. Minhae knew only too well it would only be a matter of time before the Imperial Intelligence Service figured it out. Either they would find a document here in Visegrad or someone in the Grand Alliance would inform the Cesarzowa that Sergei had struck a bargain with Stahl Fang's delegates shortly before the invasion.

They rushed over the rooftops as quietly as they could, most of Visegrad luckily being asleep at this time of night. One group joined up a few houses away from the city-edge barracks from whence they'd started. Others followed; Minhae pushed the pace now, as stealth became increasingly impractical as the group of conspirators grew. Luckily there were roofs and home over one bridge standing over the Visegrad River, so they didn't have to go to ground yet.

By the time there were one hundred silver-eyed slayers behind Minhae, the Imperial Guard had obviously caught wind of their movements. Alarm sirens, church bells and temple horns were blaring all across the city. Minhae was forced to go to ground when a large volley of gunfire peppered the roofs just in front of them. They rushed up the hill at top speed now, Minhae and Indira rushing ahead to hack off the heads of a dozen Imperial Guardsmen who attempted to slow their way. Despite the road being winding and uphill, they made good time and no one was yet panting.

Minhae reached the hill's crest alongside Indira to find the black and gold-embroidered front gates before them. A massive imperial eagle emblem, gilded in gold, was attached to the two-story tall wrought iron gates.

"Well, look at that, they've prepared a welcoming party already," Indira sniffed.

A few hundred meters beyond the front gates was the palace's grand main entrance, which had hundreds of Imperial Guardsmen in a defensive formation before it. Minhae knew this was a waste of manpower. One of the great advantages of slayers was their mobility, in particular their running speed and jumping prowess.

Indira sneered, "Fucking idiots, whoever said we had to go in the front door when there are plenty of windows?"

Her sneering didn't last long, for just as Minhae sliced through the lock, a volley of shots rang out. The distance was too great for them to be accurate, but Minhae was jolted to attention when the male slayer to her left went down to a headshot.

She smashed open the front gates and waved on her conspirators, "Move, move, move!"

"This way to Bastia," Indira shouted, leading the conspirators left.

They sprinted across the cobblestone-paved grounds under withering but inaccurate fire, as only a few bullets found their mark. Luckily for them, none was a headshot.

Minhae noticed they hadn't encountered Silver Guards yet, but that would soon change. She drew her curved Katanas and with a tremendous leap flung herself skyward. She hit the palace three stories up, smashing through a window helmet-first with a loud crash. She landed on a hard floor and knocked a frightened servant off their feet. He screamed out for guards but Indira put an abrupt end to with a halberd through the man's heart.

Minhae heard men converging on the room's door and compensated by kicking it in. As she hacked at the dust this brought up, she found a couple of soldiers crushed underneath the now-misshapen metal door. A glance back into the room whence she'd come found slayers pouring in, although they were not yet twenty strong. To make way Minhae waved those inside to come out. Outside the dull whine of the sirens grew sharper as more were wound up.

"There they are!"

Indira scoffed as a platoon of Imperial Guards lined up in the hall before them, a solid wall of pikes now in the way. Behind them a line of crossbowmen had loaded their bows and readied them for action.

"Morons," Indira sneered.

Minhae unsheathed her curved Katanas and a split second later the dozen crossbowmen fired from less than twenty meters away. She eyed the incoming arrows and slashed out with her swords, deflecting or knocking down all arrows coming close to her. With Indira doing likewise, the volley was made nearly useless.

"I say it's high time we showed Katarzyna's poodles why she fears us," Indira laughed.

She charged headlong towards the pikes, and at the last second slashed out with her halberd, shearing the heads off several pikes. Minhae followed up, only instead she jumped over the formation, and with relish, used two horizontal strikes to cut down a quartet of crossbowmen in a spray of blood. When an Imperial Guardsman tried to hack at her head with his sword, Minhae deflected the blow with one blade and spun to decapitate him with the other. Within moments the formation lay dead and bloody at the feet of her fellow conspirators.

"Nothing to it," Indira remarked, her armor and face speckled with blood.

"I suppose we should be glad Bastia is giving birth as we speak," Minhae commented. "Sergei has excellent accidental timing; we need to overthrow the Romanows and Bastia goes into labor at the same time. How should we greet her new Romanow heirs, Indira?"

Indira replied in a black humor, "With swords between the eyes."

"Commanders, everyone is accounted for," a young male slayer informed them.

"Well then, it's time to show the Romanows that raw power does matter after all," Minhae laughed, "perhaps you can teach Bastia how to properly swallow swords as part of the lesson, Indira."

Indira smirked, "I think she'll find swallowing my halberd even harder."

Minhae raised her sword and pointed the way, "Compatriots, let's go!"

They rushed through the palace like a force of nature, cutting through rank after rank of Imperial Guardsmen. They were nearing Bastia's yoki signature when it became clear that she wasn't the only Romanow they would be seeing.

"Minhae," Indira said while pulling her weapon out of a dead man, "Rima's heading right for us. You want to meet her head-on?"

Minhae turned and looked past the crowd of her compatriots down the palace's grand hall. It seemed to stretch on forever, with massive chandelier after massive chandelier in view. At the far end, just visible, were a number of tiny figures who were at least two kilometers distant, Minhae judged. Rima and her nearly-as-lethal bodyguards were rushing towards them and could not be ignored. But to engage them would be to throw away their chance at taking out Bastia, her husband Leon, and the first Romanow heirs.

"We'll deal with them after Bastia," Minhae decided. "We can't afford to give up an opportunity to deal with Bastia while she's in childbirth. We both know she's the more deadly and seasoned warrior of those two."

With this they rushed off leading the 100-strong cohort towards the palace's maternity ward, which was chock full of dozens of yoki signatures. It could only mean that the Silver Guard was in full force and waiting for them.

The group ran around a corner in the dark palace, and Minhae stopped immediately. A full company of men and two Silver Guards were waiting for them just outside the grand mahogany doors to the maternity ward. The hall was narrow enough to make maneuvering useless, but wide enough to allow the fully company to face them at once. A full three lines of pikemen and two lines of crossbowmen faced them, weapons at the ready.

A Silver Guard made a motion, and forty bows let loose at once. Minhae had no problems with protecting herself, nor did Indira, but several compatriots screamed out in pain. The volley had killed a pair of slayers, a dangerous loss given they were about to face off with dozens of Silver Guards.

"You'll pay for that," Minhae hissed.

She charged ahead and smashed into the ranks of brave-but-doomed Imperial Guardsmen. Indira and the others followed, and soon the steel armor of the Imperial Guards was being parted by duratium weapons. Minhae hacked down one Imperial Guard, but her attempt to cut down another was stopped by a sword-wielding Silver Guard. Indira faced off with the other Silver Guard and the dueling suddenly became serious.

Minhae somersaulted forward and just barely dodged a horizontal slash from the Silver Guard. Upon getting to her feet, she just managed to deflect the next blow with the blade in her left hand and slashed out with the other in his right. The Katana smashed against the side of the Silver Guard's duratium helmet but could not penetrate. Minhae's opponent staggered from the blow for a moment before counterattacking.

He stabbed towards her head with his claymore. The Minhae sidestepped and deflected the stab a little away with one sword. Minhae knew Silver Guards' armor was impenetrable, but it was not all-covering. She took advantage of the open-faced helmet and simply stabbed into the warrior's face. The male Silver Guard crumpled as she withdrew the blood-stained blade. Minhae turned to find Indira had similarly taken care of the other Silver Guard.

A few moments later the last of the valiant but foolhardy Imperial Guardsmen were finished off, their bodies left hacked to pieces in a pool of blood. The scene was dimly lit by candles in several chandeliers far overhead, the low light making everything look even more hellish. Minhae shook the blood off her boots' bottoms and stepped forward towards the grand mahogany doors of the maternity ward.

"I can't wait to see the look of desperation on that bitch's face," Indira said with a wicked smile. "Time is short; let's finish this!"

Indira kicked open the doors and Minhae blinked at the bright light within. As her eyes adjusted she found the marble-floored entrance hall brightly lit by an enormous silver chandelier full of burning candles. It was the scene underneath this that caused Minhae's stomach to sink. It appeared a full battalion of Imperial Guardsmen were lined up only thirty meters away against them in the wide hall. Lined up within the front row of pikemen were some forty Silver Guards wielding halberds. It made piercing the lines immensely more difficult.

Minhae's grip on her swords tightened as she noted the full situation. The first row, a full hundred men and Silver Guards wide, was followed by another row of pikemen. Behind this wall of pikes, halberds, and Silver Guards were a full three rows of musketeers. All of these men had their matchlocks fuses smoldering and their guns aimed and ready to fire. Minhae's heartbeat leaped at seeing three hundred guns pointed in her direction. There would be no chance of the bullets missing their mark at this distance. Nor could either she or Indira hope to deflect any of the bullets; arrows were one thing, bullets quite another.

Standing in the back of this formation were a further ten Silver Guards preventing any jumping over the formation and heading to Bastia's bed in the room beyond. Most noticeable amongst these figures was the flashy armor of a dark-skinned female Silver Guard officer. Minhae recognized Aminata instantly; Aminata after all had been a famous commander after leaving Katarzyna Romanowa's squad.

"Clever girl," Minhae bitterly complimented Aminata.

Aminata in turn shouted to her men, "Fire!"

* * *

Galk was sipping wine from a cup in his office when a younger officer in armor rushed in. He set down the wine with some aggravation as the young man breathlessly set down a sealed envelope before him on his desk.

Galk broke the seal and aggravated, said, "I hope this warrants bursting in here."

The younger officer blinked but did not say a word in his defense.

Galk looked up, "A coup by Brigadier General Soult?"

The young officer nodded, "I was with Major Janssen just outside Parliament when we saw Brigadier General Soult's troops pass. He sent them straight into Parliament and killed the guards there. He's overthrowing the government! What are your orders, sir?"

Galk got up, dusted off his blue military vest, and walked to his office's windows looking north towards central Rabona. There was not much to see, as the office was located atop a three-story barracks built into the side of Rabona's massive walls. Across the street five-story blockhouses blocked his view of anything else but the bustle of the cobblestone streets below.

Galk murmured, "Who's behind it?"

"Sir?"

Galk turned to face the younger, mustached man, "Who gave Soult that order?"

"I… I don't know, sir," the young officer admitted. "Major Janssen thought Soult was acting without—"

Galk cut him off, "I don't care what Janssen thinks but what's really going on. I want to know if there's anyone behind the act or not. If General Malaga authorized this, then that changes everything. You are to go to the village of East Kerouac. General Miria Malaga is encamped just south of it overseeing some war game exercises. You will see her, ask about Soult, and get back to me with her reply."

The young officer blinked, "Major General, your older brother is in that Parliament… sir," he amended. "Would it not be better to at least intervene to keep him safe?"

The younger officer, a mere lieutenant by the look of his armor, was clearly trying to get him to intervene against Soult. Galk wasn't about to take the bait.

Galk sat down and breathed deep, "Soult would have to be an idiot to let anything happen to Gaspar. I'd cut off his balls if he let any harm come to my brother, and Soult bloody well knows it. Gaspar ought to be fine, but send someone to Parliament anyways to remind Soult."

The mustached lieutenant was clearly disappointed, "We're not intervening?"

Galk's temper flared, "What would you have me do, tell our men to kill their compatriots for no good reason?"

"You swore an oath, General; an oath to uphold the law and orders of the government!"

Galk leaned over his desk and bellowed, "And if I followed your advice and it turned out the General had authorized a coup? That would be a disaster! This country is close enough to chaos without me pushing it over the edge."

The young Lieutenant would not be cowed, "What if Soult's done this without General Malaga's permission? What are you going to say when she asks you what you were doing while this went down?"

Galk knew he would have to do something or this man would portray him to Miria as condoning Soult's work if the coup had been done without her consent.

"The capital will be going on lock-down outside the citadel district in the meantime," Galk growled, "and you can tell her I was the one who ordered that."

The lieutenant shook his head, "I thought you were a better man. You swore this government an oath, sir, and I for one do not take oaths lightly."

Galk stared down the younger man, "I swore an oath to obey my superior officers and the upholders of the True Faith as well. I don't give a damn for your precious Parliament and its squabbling, corrupt politicians! They've allowed Raki de Lautrec, a known heretic and believer of the Triarchy, into their body."

The lieutenant was quick on the counter, "Are you a supporter of the Inquisition then?"

Galk snapped, "I was against the Inquisition's fanaticism, and I'm against corrupting this country with tolerance of heresy. Mark my words, the more Triarchs are tolerated the easier it will be for the Angevins to come back and claim their throne. That's why I don't intend to lift a finger against Soult until ordered to do so. In fact, I intend to enjoy thinking about how Raki and his heretic scum supporters will squirm before I get my orders. You have your orders lieutenant, now carry them out."

The younger man resentfully obeyed, but it was clear he was close to mutinying. The door to his office closed loudly, but Galk didn't care. All that he could think about was whether or not Miria had endorsed the coup or not. He knew it would be a tricky balancing act to figure out how to behave given this uncertainty.

_Is she behind the coup or against it? God have mercy if I make a misstep._

* * *

Cid urged his horse on with the whip, its speed picking up as it tore up the last mile of muddy road on the way to his wife's camp. Overhead the snow-covered crests of the Border Mountains loomed large, while to his front was a large gap; the Kerouac Gorge. It looked so close, but Cid knew from experience that the Kerouac Gorge was far further away than his eyes were telling him. Three miles downhill from its eastern entrance lay the village of East Kerouac, the furthest west people in Toulouse had settled. Cid glimpsed the village church tower's silhouette in the amber glow of sunset.

It was the small sea of tents just beyond that was his destination. He scarcely slowed down as he trotted the horse through the twisty boulevards of East Kerouac. Villagers scrambled out of the way, cursing him or too shocked for words. He turned the corner to find a wagon in his way, but the horse jumped it and he galloped on.

Soldiers in full armor were practice-dueling with wooden swords and spears as he rode into their camp. Cid slowed the horse to a quick walk now and then dismounted when he'd arrived before the massive white and blue commanding officer's tent. A pair of armored soldiers wielding halberds guarded the entrance.

"Dad, wait up!"

Cid turned to find Natalie coming into camp past line after line of tents upon her own horse, mud spattered all over the bottom fringes of her incredibly expensive red dress. She hopped off and rushed over.

"I told you to get changed," Cid snapped, exasperated, "not go ruining your fancy dress by riding after me in it!"

Natalie, level-headed, replied coolly, "This isn't the time for worrying about that. You told me the country's fate depends on what happens today. I could not waste all that time undressing and dressing when you need me to help talk to mom."

Cid glanced at the horse and then Natalie, "Why didn't you run? You could've—"

Natalie rolled her eyes, "In a dress like this? First of all, you can't run in a dress like this, and secondly, dad, I'd have had to rip it open just in order to try. Come on, we should get going inside to talk to mom."

They were about to head inside the tent when the guards crossed over their halberds to block entrance, "The General said she is not to be disturbed."

Cid snapped, "Do I look like any ordinary country bumpkin to you, boys? Natalie and I are her family, and you should know that doesn't apply to us."

One of the men wasn't quite convinced by this, "Comte de Malaga, she left very specific orders that absolutely no one was to disturb her. I cannot in—"

Cid snapped, "Step aside or I'll make you wish you had. There's a coup going down at this very moment in Rabona, and I do not intend to do nothing about it."

The soldiers parted their halberds and let them through into the darkened interior of the tent. He noticed Miria's large strategy table topped with chess figures representing the location of troops and fortresses. Several chairs lay empty alongside the table, which had drawn atop it the map of the entire Isle of Toulouse. It made an impressive sight; the four peninsulas making the island appear like a four-pointed star in the sea. It was for this reason why the kingdom's flag featured a white, four-pointed star upon a blue background.

Just such a flag was draped down the far side of the tent's interior, next to the entrance to the tent's personal chamber. Cid noticed light creeping pas a partly open tent flap and hurried over. His heart began to beat more loudly in his head with each approaching step.

_Please God, I will give anything to you for her not be involved in this coup. _

Cid opened the flap, allowed Natalie in, and looked around.

At first glance Cid saw a fire in the center, with rugs a safe distance away covering the grass. The chamber had a hole at its top to let out the smoke, and a number of bookcases, maps, small tables, candlewicks, and ornate chairs. At first glance he didn't see Miria anywhere in the chamber, although the fire was dim and not lighting much of it. Natalie patted his arm and pointed to a chair facing away from them. He could see an armored hand when Natalie pointed at a chair's arm in the far end.

"Miria dear," Cid called out as they walked closer, "we've got to talk."

Miria didn't respond, but instead her hand curled.

Natalie rounded the chair first, "Mom, Brigadier General Soult's gone nuts. He's killed the Parliament's guards and seized control of it with his soldiers. You have to put it down before more people get killed."

Cid noticed Miria didn't seem to be more than blinking in reaction to this. In fact, other than blinking, she hadn't seemed to have moved an inch or uttered a sound.

Natalie was flustered at the lack of response, "Is this your idea of being a great leader? Come on mom, now isn't the time to slouch off. Talk to us!"

Natalie started shaking Miria in her armor, but Cid grabbed her arms, "I don't think she's joking around with us, Natalie. Miria, if you can hear me, for the love of the Father Above say something."

Miria didn't even move an inch or give an indication she saw or heard him.

Natalie was bewildered, "What's wrong with mom, dad? Why isn't she speaking to us? Is it something we did? What's going on?"

"I don't know," Cid admitted, "but I have a hunch your mother's very ill."

Natalie snapped, "Mom isn't ill! Claymores don't get ill; everyone knows that! We become immune to disease after we're hybridized; Aunt Helen and everyone else say so. Come on Mom, I get the joke, just knock it off!"

Natalie shook Miria so violently she knocked Miria and the chair over onto their backs.

Cid yelled, "Get a handle on yourself, Natalie! Shaking her is not helping matters! You should know by now not all illnesses are in of the body. Some are in—"

"Oh my head," Miria groaned, reaching out with a hand to her forehead.

Natalie and Cid scrambled to help Miria and put her chair back on its legs.

See it worked," Natalie murmured, unhappy at being criticized.

Miria rubbed her forehead and Cid breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Thank you Father," Cid sighed as he looked up.

Miria blinked in surprise at seeing them, "When did you two get here? I must've fallen asleep; I was just about ready to come and find you!"

Cid gave her the bad news, "Miria, we've been here trying to talk with you for the last minute and your eyes were wide open."

Miria looked down, ashamed, "Please, you can't tell anyone about this. I'm trying my best to fight it; if someone were to find out…"

Cid dropped down onto one knee and hugged her tight, "You should have told us, dear. What is family for if you do not ask them for support in your time of need?"

"I'm so sorry," Miria sniffed, her head lying on his shoulder.

Natalie interrupted with her usual tact, "Mom, you have to help us. Brigadier General Soult's taken over the Parliament; he's overthrowing the government in a coup! You're the only one that can stop him."

Miria sighed but otherwise did not react other than to put her hands together underneath her chin as if she were contemplating something.

When Miria stopped moving for five seconds and only blinked, Cid's heart sank.

"Oh no, not again," he despaired. "Come on Miria, I need you to get out of this."

Miria's mouth opened, but the voice was different, "Your wife would be listening, but quite frankly I think she's too divided to act on your stupid concerns about a coup. I would rather she didn't listen to you on such matters."

Miria's voice had changed into one lower and more sinister, while her eyes suggested a very different person was inside Miria's body.

Cid jumped back, "What in hell's name is going on?"

Natalie slapped her mother, perhaps hoping to repeat her prior experience, "Mom, knock it off, you're scaring us!"

This scarier Miria returned the favor, knocking Natalie straight off her feet, over a chair, and onto the chamber's carpets.

Cid jumped to his daughter's defense, "Miria, stop it, grab a hold of yourself! Don't you see what you're doing?"

Miria grabbed him by the collar with an armored hand and held him close, "I'm not Miria. Miria is that pathetically divided woman you knew as your wife. Unfortunately, she's very, very sick inside, so she needed someone stronger to deal with matters. My name is Ophelia, and quite frankly I don't care whether you want me to stop a coup or not. You're not my husband but Miria's."

Cid plucked up the nerve to ask, "Is that what you think, Demon? Get out of my wife's body or I'll have the church exorcise it out!"

The reaction to this was utterly unlike Miria; manic laughter.

Natalie had gotten up and was rubbing her red cheek where she'd been slapped, a look of utter shock upon her face. This was not the Miria they had known.

"I said my name's Ophelia, you cocky bastard," this more sinister Miria shot back. "Oh, of all the stupid things men do, to think when she's going mad it's because of demons is a real classic. I tell you she's sick and the first thing you do is blame demons. You haven't even bothered to ask or inquire about your wife's health in the last year. This has nothing to do with demons, I assure you."

Natalie was now hiding behind him as "Ophelia" Miria advanced on them.

Cid stood his ground, "Who are you?"

'Ophelia' Miria smiled, "I am one of your wife's personalities she'd prefer kept deep down and out of sight, but I just can't stay inside anymore. This world is too glorious to keep me out of it. I came into being when her illness worsened, and as it's gotten worse she's even developed another far too kind for my liking. I like to call that personality Tabitha, especially because that really upsets your dear wife. Miria likes to hog the limelight, but you can't keep a bitch like me down for long."

Cid felt his breathing get slower and slower as he listened, "Did you order the coup in my wife's name?"

She gave him a smile even more sinister than the late Awakened Agatha, "Oh dear, what I wouldn't have given to have made that order. Getting rid of that aggravating Lautrec family would be wonderful. No, Cid, I didn't give the order, and neither did your wife for that matter. She still has that stupid conscience preventing her from doing what's necessary. But thanks for reminding me; I'll get right to ordering that coup while I'm in control."

Cid felt tears streaking down his cheeks as he had to draw his sword, "I can't let you do that, dear. Please Miria, I know you're in there somewhere dear. I need you to overcome this and put down the coup. Don't make the mistake of letting this illness turn you against your family and all you once cherished."

The reply was dark, "You pathetic man, do you think Natalie and you can stop me?"

Cid's sword-hand trembled from turning his sword on his wife, "Miria… don't let this illness turn you into a monster. Think of our daughter, of our love for each other, what we've fought so hard for together. Don't let this happen, Miria; I need you to overcome this and put down the coup for the love of God, your country and your family."

'Ophelia' Miria merely sneered and reached for her claymore. She abruptly stopped when her hand wrapped around it.

A softer voice came out of Miria's mouth, "Stop it you fool!"

Miria shook her head as if there were a battle going on inside.

Cid urged this mental battle on, "Come on Miria, fight her! Don't make me turn my sword against the woman I love."

"Get back to where you should be, Tabi," the dark-sided side of Miria snapped.

Miria's head jerked back to her other side, "Stop it, you're going to hurt him!"

It jerked back once more, the low voice of 'Ophelia' coming out, "Stupid girl, that's the whole point! Fine, if I can't draw the sword then I'll knock them aside."

A sudden jerk of movement and Cid found his world turned upside down and blurry. There was a great deal of noise in the background, but in his daze it took precious seconds to sort the sounds out. He found himself on his back and knocked over a chair. It took precious seconds to get back up and see what was happening.

Natalie was trapped underneath her mother, who was trying to knock her out.

Natalie gasped as Miria's hands wrapped around her throat, "Mom, it's me!"

Cid rushed over to stop this crazed version of his wife but she knocked him back with a preemptive smack of her hand. He painfully landed on his ass, the pain only moderated by his dazed condition. 'Ophelia' Miria was meanwhile trying her best to destroy the family.

Natalie pleaded with a desperate cry, "Mom!"

Miria's hands slackened moments later and she pulled off Natalie and began looking in horror at her hands. An uncontrollable stream of tears began washing down her face.

"I'm so sorry," Miria sobbed, "… for all of this. I don't tell you about this illness and here I go nearly letting it destroy our family. Oh God, what is wrong with me?"

Natalie, despite being choked moments earlier, rushed to hug her mother and provide her comfort. Cid for his part was just glad that he could find his sword and sheathe it.

Miria pleaded, "Please don't tell anyone about this. It pains me enough."

_But how do we keep such things under control in the future? How can I keep you from letting your illness run amok? How do we keep your secret safe and also the family secure? _

They were questions Cid did not have an answer for, but already he felt a desperate need to answer them as soon as possible. Whatever else happened, he had made up his mind that Miria's illness had to be combated. Unfortunately, it was no sure thing to find a cure.

Cid touched her on the shoulder, "Miria, are you sure you'll be able to keep this illness under control for the rest of today?"

"You have to understand, it was just a rare relapse," Miria pleaded, "I've only suffered something like that two other times, and they were weeks apart."

Cid was not wholly convinced but knew there would be no predicting a recurrence.

Miria wiped away tears, "You have to understand I am trying to fight this… this illness. I try every day, but it's so hard when you're not around."

Cid kissed her on the forehead as she and Natalie got up, "Then we'll make certain one of us is always around for you."

Miria blinked away the tears, her self-control coming back steadily, "Merci".

Natalie stroked her mother's hair, "Mom, we need your help."

Miria looked at Cid uncertainly, "Help with what?"

_God help us, she doesn't even remember me telling her the first time. _

Cid took a deep breath, "Brigadier General Soult has seized control of Parliament and is threatening to overthrow the government. The only person with the authority to put an end to this is you. The army will listen to you, so if you say non to this coup it's all over."

_Actually I bet Galk could stop it, but I'm not sure he isn't supporting it. He seemed rather happy at the prospect of Raki and Ruud getting knocked out of power. _

Miria looked uncertain, "You really think I should?"

_God have mercy on her soul, for she knows not what she says. _

Miria pulled out of Natalie's embrace and looked towards the chamber's entry flap.

Cid interrupted, "Miria, there are good people whose lives are at stake."

Miria looked unhappy, "Why should I help Raki? He spent the last few weeks defaming me in public speeches, alleging I was plotting to overturn the government, backing up the insults of his wife. Why should I help him?"

_It looks like I badly underestimated just how insulted she was by Raki and Claire. _

Cid countered, "What better way to disprove him than by stopping a coup?"

Miria hesitated; making it clear to Cid it was down to a battle between her dignity being insulted and doing the right thing. He decided not to let her waver.

_Father Above; please forgive what I must say. It was done for the sake of your People. _

Cid made a white lie, "Raki and Claire apologized about it."

Miria frowned, "It? You mean they apologized about it all, including the time Claire dared lay a hand on my daughter?"

_She's sounding more and more like herself by the second. _

Cid lied, "God's judgment, I heard it from their lips this very morning. They take back everything and Raki's even promised to pay back the damages for Natalie's dress."

Natalie took an inopportune time to interrupt, "They did?"

_There are some days when I wish Miria would teach her when to shut up. _

Cid urged Miria on, "Dear, I know you, and I know you would never condone such a heinous act as an illegal coup. Aren't you going to help us?"

* * *

A shout of defiance was all the warning Alevtina had that the stalemate between Sergei and Wenceslaus was about to get more interesting. A Silver Guard had somehow managed to surprise attack and had flung himself blade first straight towards Sergei's head. Sergei's right arm, now made up of tentacles covered in suction cups and spikes, reacted with lightning speed. Tentacles rushed out to hit the warrior from the side.

The Silver Guard was deflected to one side and landed by smashing into one of the great granite columns of the open-sided temple. Wenceslaus was knocked back by a pair of tentacles, although he managed to cut through one of them upon getting up. Sergei retracted the remainder and re-grew the other as they stood facing each other. The Silver Guard contingent meanwhile had formed a cordon of their remaining conscious members around the temple. They were held at bay by four of Sergei's Awakened comrades.

Sergei turned his attention to the Cesarzowa, who was grasped tightly by three tentacles around her body.

"You know, I'm not sure I should kill you," Sergei mused. "You'd be so much more entertaining as an enslaved concubine. Then I could enjoy myself forcing you open with my Awakened cock. Let me tell you, that's a sight to see, both in size and appearance."

Katarzyna was defiant, "I'll die before I let that happen, you sick bastard."

Sergei laughed, "Oh please, bastard is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of myself as smarter than anyone else here. I've got you in my grasp, and if Duke Wenceslaus makes so much as a step in my direction, the woman who he'd need to rule will be dead. I can't say I'm impressed with the supposed brilliance of 'legendary' Katarzyna Romanowa."

Wenceslaus, who was stuck a little ways away, shot back, "You can't win, Sergei. Even if I die here today, you will never be accepted as a ruler of humanity."

Sergei rapped his armor with his un-awakened hand, "That's what the old High Command once thought about people accepting silver-eyed slayers as leaders. You'll recall your Cesarzowa and her pals put them two meters under."

"It's not happening," Wenceslaus insisted.

The yoki pressure was building up steadily as the two measured each other up. Wenceslaus was clearly looking for an opening that would allow him to save the Cesarzowa, and Sergei was clearly looking for a way to catch Wenceslaus off-guard.

Alevtina, just off to one side and out of the way of the combat, was finding it hard to breath as the yoki pressure mounted, her breath growing shorter with each passing minute.

Sergei turned his attention back to Wenceslaus, "This is getting boring. How about we just cut to the chase? It'll be you and your pathetic single sword against my endless amounts of Awakened abilities and regeneration."

Wenceslaus readied in his combat stance, sword high and behind his head. Sergei merely smirked and at once his body began to grow all over. It began pressing up against his armor, and then he let out a primal scream.

Sergei's awakening had stopped abruptly, and he was still looking quite human apart from one arm. The only difference now was his nose was bleeding.

Katarzyna smirked, "You can't break duratium armor, Sergei. I had your usual armor replaced just in case you did anything stupid at our meeting."

"You'll pay for this," Sergei screamed, smashing her repeatedly against the stones of the temple's floor. These impacts however were padded by his tentacles. Soon enough one of the tentacles let go and one of Katarzyna's arms came loose. Sergei tried to unfasten the armor, but Wenceslaus charged at the opportunity.

Sergei did not miss this, and with relish awakened his other arm. Wenceslaus was forced to hack through three tentacles from the arm holding the Cesarzowa, and when the huge mass of the other arm hit him he was sent flying. Wenceslaus landed awkwardly on his head and was sliding backwards still when Sergei aimed his follow-up attack. Alevtina leapt into action and swung her sword to intercept these tentacles. It did the trick, but barely, her sword knocking the tentacles down and forcing them to impact the temple floor prematurely.

Wenceslaus scrambled to his feet, but he was much too far away to be of help to her.

Sergei turned towards her and thundered, "You'll pay for that, little bitch!"

The Cesarzowa interrupted, "Rather unlikely."

Alevtina glanced over to where the Cesarzowa was stuck in Sergei's tentacles, as did Sergei. Katarzyna's free arm held a small object, which she pointed at her captor. Sergei had barely turned to face her when a loud bang rang out.

Sergei's brains spattered all over the temple floor. He fell to the temple floor with a hole in his forehead, dead. Alevtina in shock noticed the Cesarzowa was holding a small pistol in her hand as she removed herself from Sergei's dead grip. The Cesarzowa picked up a nearby sword as the remaining four Awakened went back-to-back. The remaining Silver Guards rushed to the Cesarzowa's side and around the Sergei's Awakened supporters. The magnitude of what had just happened was still difficult for Alevtina to comprehend.

Wenceslaus was blinking in surprise; he evidently had expected to be the one to finish Sergei. Instead the greatest Awakened in the world had seen his life cut short by a single bullet. Sergei had been the ultimate believer in Yoma energy over modern weapons, and the Cesarzowa had just used a firearm to blow his brains out. A more fitting end for him was hard to imagine.

Katarzyna addressed the remaining Awakened, "Sergei's coup has failed, not that it would have succeeded even had I died. My heirs include not just my family but the Minister of War, Antoni Poniatowski. Did you seriously think three elite warriors and a few hundred Awakened would be enough to win a war against the entire army, ten thousand slayers and a capable general? You must be the most brilliant fools I've ever encountered."

The Awakened bunched themselves together just outside the temple, four dozen Silver Guards readying to kill them at the Cesarzowa's whim.

The Cesarzowa continued talking in a chilling tone, "The moment I was in your grasp I should have died. Sergei wasted that moment, which is why he would never have made a good Cesarz. You want to know why the Grand Alliance fears me? When my enemies are in my power, I never fail to destroy them. Silver Guard!"

Every Silver Guard charged the remaining Awakened at this command.

* * *

Cid did not particularly enjoy jogging around Rabona at night, as the cobblestones were often spattered with horse shit, the contents of chamber pots, and more than a few criminals were out waiting to ambush the unwary. Luckily he could do something about the latter with his sword, but it did nothing to ease his disgust with the squelching noises his boots sometimes made. Cid looked down to find his right boot smack dab in the center of a partly flattened horse turd, so he picked up his leg and gave boot a vigorous kicking.

"Just fucking wonderful," he cursed.

Miria had promised there was little chance of her relapsing so soon, something which he knew she could not promise. It made him nervous now, trusting Miria's sanity to hold out while he was elsewhere. His only consolation was that Natalie was nearby, but even that made him worry. Miria had after all nearly killed the two of them in a deranged state.

Cid shook off as much shit as he could and rushed onwards. He was on a mission to save the Lautrec twins from the clutches of Soult's men. It ought to be easy enough he reasoned to do on his own. When he arrived at the three-story residence Cid began second-guessing his prior instincts. Some six armored men were standing in front of the front door. Cid felt a little out of place wearing his riding clothes and sword in contrast.

The nearest soldier spotted him approaching due to the light of their burning torch.

The soldier barked, "Halt! No one is allowed into this home except by the explicit order of Brigadier General Soult."

Cid gave Miria's order to the taller man, "I'm Comte Cid de Malaga, and I'm here on behalf of my wife. Those are her orders. You are to release the children and whomever else you're holding with them immediately."

The soldier snapped, "You're lying! You're not really the Comte de Malaga!"

Cid blinked in surprise; no one had ever accused him of being someone else.

The soldier continued, "If you were the real Comte Cid on behalf of your wife you would be accompanied by her soldiers!"

_Why the hell did I promise to go do this rescue on my own? I swear there are days when my old cockiness comes back and gets the better of me. _

Cid sighed, "You'll be written up for insubordination and a court-martial if you don't stand aside Captain…"

The man ripped the order in half, "It's Captain Beauchamp. I don't believe a word of what you're saying. Brigadier General Soult said the General was backing us, and you show up alone saying otherwise with nought but a fake order? Arrest the little man!"

One of the soldiers tried to grab Cid, but Cid drew his short sword, deflected the man's first attack, and hit him in the side of the helmet with the flat of his blade. The soldier went down unconscious at Cid's side. Cid drew himself into a combat stance to face the soldiers.

Cid scowled, "Little? Why I was once the Champion Duelist of Rabona. I think it's high time you treated me with more respect."

Captain Beauchamp glowered as motioned to his men, "Kill the southern bastard!"

Four men advanced on him at once, forming a semi-circle about him while the statuesque Captain Beauchamp watched in the background.

The man off Cid's right shoulder tried to stab at him first. Cid deflected his blow with the short sword and then grabbed him by his sword arm. He flung the larger man over his shoulder as a shield. The three other men who were rushing into to attack frantically pulled their blows at the last possible second. Cid took advantage of their hesitance once the man he'd thrown had landed and flung himself over the grounded soldier.

He somersaulted upon landing and turned to face the nearest soldier. The man flung himself at Cid, so Cid deflected his first attack and let him go flying by. Cid grabbed his cloak just as another soldier rushed up to swipe at his head. Cid pulled the soldier's cloak back while simultaneously ducking under an attacking blade. This connected with the armored head of the soldier whose cloak Cid had yanked back, crumpling him.

In turn Cid attacked the perpetrator of this act and found his first blow parried. Cid instead aimed the next blow at the back of the man's leg. He fell onto his knees after Cid's sword found its mark. Cid parried the attack of the last soldier and then spun to knock out his wounded comrade with a mighty swing of the flat of his blade. The man fell groaning in pain.

This final attacker was more nuanced and practiced, so Cid gripped his sword with a leather glove mid-way along its blade. The other hand held the grip firmly.

Cid's opponent scoffed, "What's the use in that? You can't penetrate plate armor with a short sword!"

The man attacked down a down-stroke, which Cid parried downwards. Cid then used his new grip on the sword and swung it overhead like an axe. The hilt smashed into the man's helmet with brutal force. The soldier staggered under the blow but was still standing, so Cid followed it up with another blow just like it. He was knocked onto his belly and writhed in pain at Cid's feet. Captain Beauchamp drew his broadsword this time.

"Bunch of damn incompetent swordsmen," Beauchamp spat.

The two of them faced off surrounded by the five armored soldiers Cid had finished. Beauchamp however was in another realm in terms of his combat composure in Cid's eyes and was significantly larger than his subordinates. He was also wielding a far larger broadsword.

Beauchamp carefully approached him and with a might swing knocked Cid back when he parried. Cid found his counterattack expertly deflected, and narrowly dodged Beauchamp's counter by jumping just out of sword range.

Beauchamp chuckled, "Your only chance of surviving this is running away, little man."

Cid and Beauchamp circled, each looking for an opening.

Cid replied serenely, "The Champion of Rabona does not run."

This time Beauchamp slammed down a vicious down-stroke upon his blade, which the short sword could not withstand. It wobbled wildly at the impact, and then to Cid's great dismay its blade fractured in half. Cid was left with half a blade against the massive captain, who was readying for the next blow.

Beauchamp goaded, "What do you say to your impending death, little man?"

Cid replied, "Not tonight."

* * *

The Parliament was no longer in an uproar, as far as Raki could tell, but its nearly silent members had refused to leave its main meeting chamber. This was just as well, for Claire, in shock, had fallen while pregnant at the twins being taken hostage by Soult's men. As he checked underneath her dress Raki sighed in relief.

"She didn't miscarry," he told the forty-strong party of his backers on the risers behind him. "Just remain calm and I'm sure somebody will sort out this mess."

Brigadier General Soult's men snapped at him, "No talking, heretic!"

Soult for his part was pacing near the Speaker's chair, which was the nearest thing to a centerpiece of the rectangular Parliament chamber. On three sides there were green risers and desks before them, giving the chamber a u-shaped, bowl-like appearance. At the far end was the Speaker's grand mahogany chair, which was on a raised platform.

Soult motioned to Raki's caucus, "I want the filthy heretics out of the Parliament, and the appeasers as well. Only true Orthodox men are fit to serve in this body."

It was only too evident Soult meant to eject Ruud van Willems' supporters along with Raki's. There was only one slight problem with this plan to leave a 'rump parliament'.

Gaspar Galacon thundered, "I am not taking orders from a man who is my younger brother's subordinate! We're not serving at your discretion to be discarded like toys, Brigadier General. My caucus is made up of only true Orthodox men of character, and they answer to me and their constituents, not to you and your little pack of army boys!"

Soult, in full armor, glared at the bearded Gaspar, who strongly resembled his younger brother Francois "Galk" Galacon.

Soult snapped, "I'll not sit here taking insults from a corrupt politician, no matter who he claims to represent. Get him out of here!"

Raki noticed that for once his soldiers hesitated.

_About damn time the other side started in-fighting. With luck his men will turn on him. _

Gaspar's supporters tried to keep him safe, but Soult's men pushed them aside, grabbed Gaspar, and just like Ruud van Willems had, forced Gaspar out of the chamber.

Soult sat down in the Speaker's chair, "The Army's first act will be to reinstate law and order in accordance with the law. All men judged of good character will be…"

Soult trailed off when a younger officer rushed up to the great chair and whispered.

Soult looked surprised, "They're here already?"

The younger officer nodded, "Yes sir."

Soult stood up and looked towards the entrance, where a moment later General Miria Malaga emerged in full armor with several officers and armed soldiers.

_I will tear her head off if she's behind the twins being taken hostage. _

The Parliament fell silent as she entered and looked around.

Soult rushed up to confess, "General Malaga, we weren't expecting you so soon."

_That's it, it's over. She's behind it all. _

Raki felt like crying as he watched but didn't.

"I am rarely not early," Miria replied. "Why have you detained the Parliament?"

The shock of Parliament at these words was immediately apparent, for formerly dispirited members heads perked up and a fierce bout of whispering broke out.

Soult reasoned, "They were a clear and present danger to the army. The heretics amongst them were threatening to appeal to the traitor Angevins and endanger the people. I had to act."

Miria's face was unreadable as she listened.

"I need to address the members," Miria declared. "First of all, I want your men in the gallery gone. Major General Galacon, remove those men so I can talk."

Miria motioned up to the gallery overlooking the main chamber two stories up. The two hundred crossbowmen there were being motioned out by Galk and several other officers on both sides. Soult immediately tensed up.

Soult objected, "Those are my men, and they will stay where they are until—"

Miria lit into him, "Is that insubordination, Brigadier General?"

Soult didn't help himself, "General, my men are here to—"

"Take him out of the chamber," Miria snapped.

Soult's defiance almost continued until an armored Renée and Natalie walk up to him. In the end he left quietly, and his men in the galleries filed out as well.

Miria turned to a nearby male officer, "Major Janssen, you are to escort Soult's men back to their barracks. Those who cooperate will be pardoned."

For the first time Raki's heart leapt as hope returned.

Soult's men all filed out under the General's watchful gaze, and when the last of them had left the Parliament erupted in cheers.

Miria took her seat in the Speaker's Chair, "Gentlemen of the Parliament, soldiers of the Army, I wish to condemn in the strongest language possible this illegal seizure of power. It was not authorized by me, nor will I endorse it. Soldiers of the Royal Toulousaine Army are not here to rule but to defend the country from all threats, external and domestic. I pledge to you that in the future we will keep to our roles as protectors of the government, not its rulers. Accordingly, Brigadier General Soult is being escorted at this very moment to prison."

The whole Parliament erupted in loud cheers of "Vive le general Miria!"

Members of Parliament rushed over to congratulate and thank the General. Claire startled Raki by sitting alongside him silently.

"Gods, Claire, you surprised me," Raki gasped.

Claire pursed her lips, a guilty look upon her face, "I told everyone she was planning to take over and now look. Helen and the rest of them are going to remind me of this day for the rest of my years."

Raki sighed, "Just be glad we were both wrong."

A thought struck Claire, "Oh Gods, where are the twins?"

Raki tried to rush through the packed floor to the General to ask. New fears coursed through him as he tried to reach Miria. By the time he reached the Speaker's Chair, Miria had already left the chamber and was on her way out of the building. Raki rushed after her.

"General, wait, there's something I have to ask!"

Mira and her daughter Natalie stopped and turned to see him.

Raki clasped his hands and pleaded, "My twins, they were taken hostage by Soult's men! You have to send someone out to save them otherwise—"

Cid interjected, "Don't worry, Raki, I've got them right here."

Raki felt tears stream down his cheeks when he saw Cid carrying one twin in each arm towards them. They reached out and beamed when they saw their papa. Cid set them down and they rushed over and into his arms. Claire was soon with them, and Victor like always jumped off, and then ran over into his mom's welcoming arms.

Miria gasped at Cid disheveled appearance and bloody nose, "Oh my God, Cid, what the hell happened?"

Cid smiled, "There was some resistance. Nothing I couldn't handle though."

Raki set down little Teresa and embraced Cid with a bear hug full of gratitude.

"I'm sorry we ever doubted the character of your family," Raki apologized after they embraced. "But I mean to make amends for that starting today."

Raki saw Gaspar Galacon and Ruud van Willems walk by, both of them nodding in gratitude towards Miria.

Distantly Raki heard the gravelly voice of the Parliament's elderly Speaker, "Order, the Parliament is now called back to order."

Miria smiled, if only barely, "I appreciate that. Perhaps we can make amends with an evening or a—"

"I think I know something you deserve far more," Raki replied before walking towards the Parliament chamber.

Cid tried to hold him back, "Wait, I'm not sure you should do anything considering what just happened."

Raki shrugged this off, "On the contrary, my dear friend now is the best time to properly recognize what you've just done for my family."

Raki walked into the boisterous chamber just as Ruud van Willems began to speak.

Raki walked back to his caucus as Ruud declared, "Given recent events, Monsieur Speaker, I feel it is best we are given a day off to recover from the ordeal. I motion to adjourn the Parliament for the day and return tomorrow."

The elderly Speaker looked around, "Is there a second to the motion?"

Raki yelled out, "I object!"

Everyone looked towards him, but Raki felt no pressure from the hundreds of eyes. Instead he felt a serene calm knowing what must be done for the country's future.

Raki stood up at his podium and declared, "Monsieur Speaker, I must object. Now is not the time to disperse. We all know the dangers our country faces going forward, and I believe there is no better time to decide them than in the spirit of unity and elation we have now."

Ruud van Willems looked peeved at his motion being undermined but stood silent.

Raki put both hands on his podium and looked his fellow members in the eyes, "The best time to chart our future, Monsieur Speaker, is right now, when we realize the true gravity of the situation following what just happened. Monsieur Speaker, fellow members, I propose that this body nullify all rights of the Angevins to the throne."

There was some confused clapping, and out of the corner of his eye Raki saw Cid near the Parliament's entrance with a worried look upon his face.

The Speaker conveniently forgot Ruud van Willems' pending motion, "All in favor of nullifying all rights of the Angevins and their heirs to the throne?"

The vote was thunderous and unanimously in favor.

"All present voting yes, the motion is carried by unanimous acclaim," the Speaker declared. "Are there any other motions members would like to make?"

Ruud once again tried to say something but Raki spoke first, "Monsieur Speaker, I would like to make a second motion. It should be apparent to everyone that our lives and the power of this body were preserved by the selfless actions of our top officer, General Malaga. Ordinarily I would ask you all to vote the General the highest medal possible for her gallant protection of democracy and the state. But that, my friends, is too small a gratitude for what she's done here today. We cannot thank her or her husband enough with either words or medals for restoring this Parliament to its rights, nor can I for her husband's saving of my children."

Gaspar and Ruud van Willems looked as if they'd die of jealousy.

Raki raised his hand and declared, "Monsieur Speaker, there is only one person whom this body trusts completely, and that is Countess Miria Victoire de Beauharnais Malaga. The throne sits empty, and I believe that no one would fill it better than the Countess. I motion to elevate Countess Malaga to Queen of Toulouse."

Raki was perplexed when he saw Cid's brows furrowed but paid it no mind, as a huge roar of approval rang out throughout the Parliament. It was so loud that when Gaspar Galacon and Ruud van Willems fell over themselves to second the motion, the Speaker did not hear them for a good half minute.

The elderly Speaker spoke loudly for once, "All in favor of the Countess being granted the throne and to her descendants and heirs in perpetuity?"

The thundering acclaim was universal and deafening.

Raki could barely hear the Speaker pronounce it passed, "Then I hereby pronounce Comtesse Miria Malaga as Reine Miria, Reine de Toulouse!"

Natalie brought out Miria to see and hear the thundering ovation, and the cheers grew yet louder and more delirious.

Raki shouted over the din, "Monsieur Speaker, I have only one thing to say before we adjourn: God Save the Queen!"

The whole Parliament picked up the line and chanted it over and over and ever louder.

Miria's eyes welled with tears of gratitude as she raised a hand to acknowledge the acclaim. Natalie was simply beaming and Claire and the twins were vigorously clapping from up in the gallery alongside Galk. Raki promised himself he would never forget this moment.


	22. Chapter 21: Queen and Empress

**Chapter 21: Queen and Empress**

**Excerpt from "The Alliance of Nations: A CompleteHistory"**

**By C. Havel**

**650 years before the Organization was overthrown, the small Duchy of Visegrad fell silent as the Sikorsky dynasty died out. Surrounded by enemies, the local nobility decided that a new duke must be found to fill the political void. After two years, the locals had found someone they deemed the perfect fit: Henry Beaufort. He was a Bretonese count and cousin to the King of Breton, and thus of royal blood. Best of all, he was foreign, didn't speak a word of the local language, had no wife, and had just turned sixteen.**

**Here was a man the local aristocrats believed they could strong-arm into doing whatever they wanted. Young Henry appeared to be playing to their script for the first year of his reign. But at age seventeen he married a local noble's daughter and changed his name to Henry Comnenus in a show of political astuteness. By age twenty he had mastered the game of power and went on to rule an astounding seventy-three years while quintupling the size of his realm. His great-grandson Stanislaus I succeeded him and embarked on an ambitious military expansion and gave himself the title of Archduke. A century later, Henry III declared himself a king. By the time the draconic tribe under Stahl Fang began intervening in human politics, the Kingdom of Comnenia was surpassed in strength only by the Bengali and Szechwan empires.**

**Piotr II was the Comnenian king who brought the kingdom into the Alliance of Nations. An able king, his reforms and leadership greatly helped in preventing defeat in the Great War's early years. However he found himself hindered by the politics of other states. The Bengali Empire suffered from "harem politics", where ambitious concubines each schemed to place their son upon the throne. This led to many short-lived Sultans, which prevented much needed reforms and allowed the empire to rot from the inside out. Piotr was most exasperated with the Bretonese, who contributed only naval might to the alliance and seemed half-hearted allies at best. Other allies were fully committed but were too small to be of much help.**

**The Kingdom of Comnenia, blessed with being behind a series of buffer states, became increasingly powerful as the Great War continued. As other allied states repeatedly defaulted under the weight of heavy war debts, the Comnenian monarchs became the paymasters of the alliance. It was under Piotr II's financial pressure that all allied states but the Kingdom of Breton and the Bengali Empire combined their armed forces to create the Allied Army, Allied Navy and Special Operations Command. But even Piotr's reforms were not enough to win back the initiative, and the Alliance of Nations continued to suffer disproportionate losses.**

**His successors were less able, and in their generous support of the allied cause they repeatedly bankrupted the state. They made other grievous errors: using Awakened against domestic rebellions where millions died, rebel and innocent alike; the repression creating countless dissidents only too eager to assist the Grand Alliance. King Lech, the last Comnenian king, was particularly ill-suited to this era of increasingly total war, for he was more interested in hunting and pursuit of women. Hit by the blame for the Bengali Empire's collapse, his dynasty's political, economic and military legitimacy frayed. His one bit of luck was that Marshal Romanowa's efforts had given the alliance some breathing room.**

**Lech, eager to expand his country's might, demanded the western territories of the Western Maghrebi Emirate, which would get the lands reconquered by Romanowa in compensation. Faced with demands for troops on other fronts, in an act of political cowardice he gave in to Luo Triarchy demands for more troops and failed to reinforce Romanowa. Unsurprisingly Emir Maktoum and Marshal Romanowa both felt betrayed by the king. Worse, Lech had made enemies of Field Marshal Poniatowski when he refused to bring justice against his spouse, Queen Anna, for the murder of Poniatowski's lover. With the alliance's de facto leader's popularity thus at an all-time low, Poniatowski's coup on December fifth could not have been better timed…**

* * *

The strawberry-blond female slayer looked up through the bars of her cell at the sound of his approach. Her once immaculate hair was disheveled, her otherwise beautiful face sported a black eye, and she was dressed in black prisoners' garb. James knew the memory instantly as he delved deeper into it. He was dressed in his Silver Guard armor, which was far from stealthy, giving the slayer in question plenty of advance warning at his coming.

"Have you come to convince me to repent, James?"

Lillian O'Malley gave him a look of quiet defiance through the bars as he looked in upon her from the dank hall of her prison. Lillian's arms were bound by duratium-forged restraints that wrapped around them entirely but for her hands. Her lower legs were similarly bound, although these were attached with huge chains to the brick wall behind her.

James sighed, "Why did you do it?"

Lillian stared back into his eyes as she told him, "You think I would sell my morals and honor for the offer of a pardon? Does it trouble you that my loyalty cannot be bought by threats of death, pardons or cash, James?"

James yelled, "Why would you try to kill the Cesarzowa with your own chains? She was offering you a way out with your dignity and honor!"

Lillian smirked, "Dignity and honor? Katarzyna could not offer anyone a way out of with dignity and their honor after what she's done. Last I heard she's wiped out nearly all the royal families and their children as well. Does it not trouble you to think of all the faces of those she's done in? What was the crime of the children, James?"

"I am not here to debate the morality of a matter I did not carry out," James snapped.

Lillian goaded him, "Tell me James, how is it you still believe there is any honor in your new station?"

James shot back, "Where was the honor in you letting Victoria McKenzie torture me? Where was the honor in protecting monarchs who ordered the deaths of millions of innocents in Bengal and here?"

Lillian sniffed in disbelief, "Another one of your fabrications and a bad one at that, James. But I suppose I should expect nothing less from the compatriot of warriors who soiled their blades with the blood of those they were sworn to protect."

There was a triumphant look in Lillian's eyes now, as though her defiance even onto death was a victory on its own. James resigned himself to the fact that Lillian would never understand the truth of the royals for whose memory she was willing to die. Katarzyna Romanowa had offered her former comrade and friend a pardon a week prior. Lillian, whose hands and feet had been loosely chained, had struck to avenge herself. Using the chain connecting her handcuffs, she'd attempted to choke the new Cesarzowa to death. It took several Silver Guards efforts' to knock her out with blows to the head to prevent this.

The result was that Lillian was now slated for execution. James was not happy with all Katarzyna had done; far from it. He could not justify the deaths of the young royals, but he was also painfully aware of what royal incompetence had cost everyone: a 110-year war that had killed tens of millions and displaced even more.

"The Cesarzowa is at least dedicated to winning the war," James huffed.

Lillian's flesh began rapidly deteriorating, which had not happened like in his memory.

"She hasn't won yet, and you know she will never give you what you so desperately desire," the skeletal Lillian declared in an increasingly harsh, raspy voice.

She reached towards him only for her flesh to come off completely along with her skull, which rolled towards him and hit the door with a sickening crunch.

James opened his eyes to find himself in a warm, fur-covered bed. He felt his forehead in sweat as he sat up. The bed was crammed into a small wooden cabin, the only source of light being a small window little higher than the bed. It was when he felt the cabin sway that he remembered he was aboard a ship.

He spent a moment quickly putting on his sword, pants, fine shirt and sword-belt. The Silver Guards had been warned about being washed overboard, so he wore no armor. It made the Cesarzowa's bodyguard service on the whole even more nervous than they were immediately after the attempt on her life and that of her family.

James opened the door to the cramped cabin and blinked at the bright sunlight pouring in. The sight now, even after he'd seen it earlier, was still no less impressive. He was on a massive warship with four masts, each ascending dozens of meters high into the crystal blue skies above. Large, uncountable numbers of sails trapped the wind and were moving the warship forward. James noticed a lanky, tall, well-dressed, middle-aged man leaning over the railing nearby.

The balding man was reading a book with a pair of hand-held glasses, which he put down to look over at James as he gestured towards the view beyond.

"Magnificent to behold, isn't it?"

James looked out to see a dozen warships to either side.

"It is," James admitted.

"It's also a far larger fleet than I would have brought had I been in the Cesarzowa's position," the man opined. "Two dozen warships, three of them the most modern and largest galleons money can buy, is no way to go anywhere if you want to keep it a secret."

James smiled at the man's nonchalance, "May I ask why it is you think so highly of your opinion in this matter sir?"

"One would hope that Her Supreme Imperial Majesty's Foreign Minister knows what he is talking about," the man replied.

James abruptly realized who he was talking to, "Foreign Minister Bergen… I was not expecting you aboard sir, forgive my rash words."

Bergen gave not a hint of anger, "Do not worry, countryman, my ego is not at stake. I presume you are Lieutenant Commander Havel?"

James blinked in surprise, "You have already exceeded your reputation, Your Excellency. I knew you were a bright man, but to—"

Anders Bergen smiled, "You may overestimate me, Lieutenant Commander. I was told by Commander Zalika that you would be convalescing in that cabin for the week, so when someone came walking out I had to assume it was you. I gather you're the man of the hour, Havel. Attacking Sergei Djugashvili head-on without support was quite courageous."

James sighed, "It did little to change the situation; he knocked me out with his first counter-attack and the Cesarzowa by everyone's account was responsible for ending it. If I'd had a gun it might have gone differently."

Katja Tymoshenko had resigned following her failure to protect the Cesarzowa from Sergei Djugashvili. Aminata Zalika in contrast had done a magnificent job stopping Indira Raheja and Minhe Choung Park's efforts to kill Bastia Romanowa while in labor. James for his part had gotten himself knocked out attacking Sergei, making the choice for next Silver Guard commanding officer obvious to all.

Katja, despondent over her failure, had attempted to kill herself the day after resigning, and was stopped only by the quick reaction of her husband Lewis. Lewis may have had a reputation for being hapless, but it was a deceiving reputation. It had been Lewis, not James, Katja or the Cesarzowa, who had bested Lillian in personal combat.

"Unfortunately force is not a method that can solve all problems," Bergen sighed. "Not that I minded Her Majesty blowing Djugashvili's treacherous brains out. However you can't solve everything by force. Here we are on a diplomatic mission, and Her Supreme Imperial Majesty has decided to show our diplomatic side by arriving at our destination with more than a thousand cannon pointing in the faces of those we hope to woo."

"It was necessary for her—"

Bergen cut him off, "Yes, yes, Her Supreme Imperial Majesty's safety is paramount, but it could be equally protected with secrecy. Half the art of war is knowledge of your enemies' plans, and nobody, not the Grand Alliance nor the Bretonese, is going to miss 24 large warships leaving Busan. We could have done this secretly with three ships max, but there is no chance of secrecy with over a score of warships and their crews involved."

James clasped his hands, "Your Excellency, I don't think you could ever convince the Cesarzowa to chance anything less than an escort with overwhelming firepower. It's in her nature; she doesn't do anything less than all-out."

Bergen patted him on the shoulder, "Havel, the war is nearly over. The Grand Alliance's armies are in retreat, and a fifth of its fleet was smashed off Mondragon. Even the plotters Indira Raheja and Minhe Choung Park are on the run. There is no good reason for a fleet this size."

James nodded, "It's true that the Grand Alliance's heavy galleasses, carracks and caravels can't compare to a more advanced galleon like the CMS Gdynia. That doesn't mean other powers don't have ships that can sink a 124-gun behemoth like this one."

Bergen smiled, "Therein lies the power of diplomacy, Master Havel. When you have a massive hammer, every problem looks like a nail. Strong as the Cesarzowa's military might is, we would still have major problems if the Grand Alliance recuperated and recruited the Bretonese and Haaraleenese to their side in the next war. I aim to prevent that from happening."

* * *

Ermita was led up the last of the steps by the guard into a drier room that the cell he had inhabited for years. This new room was lit by a pair of slit windows, which was understandable given he was locked up in a castle located on a river isle in the midst of Rabona.

He settled down at a chair beside a simple wooden table to await whatever was about to happen. In his nearly four years of imprisonment, this moment was more exciting than any save when Rubel Louvre busted Dae Prado out. He'd later been informed that Dae Prado and the Grand Alliance ambassador had been found dead at the docks in Gonal. Ermita had not mourned the loss of either man.

He was dressed simply in the worn black robes of his former employer, the Organization, the secret research branch of Allied Special Operations Command. Ermita heard the door slam shut behind him and found himself alone. He twiddled his thumbs and whistled a few tunes before the door opened yet again. This time he found a handsome, well-dressed man who looked to be in his late 20s and had his long brown hair in a ponytail. Recognition came instantly.

"Prince Cid, I never thought I'd see you so soon after your wife's elevation to queen," Ermita noted. "I assume you're here for more than just a social call on an elderly former Organization man. Come here to ask me something, have you?"

Cid settled down in the chair opposite with a look of distaste upon his face, "Let me make clear to you, scum; I will never condone what you have done to this island's people."

Ermita laughed, "What I've done? If you're looking for the men most responsible for butchering this island's people, you had best start with the ones who are dead already. Chief Rimuto authorized all sorts of costly projects, but it was Dae Prado's creations that wiped out half the population in the south. My crimes in contrast look rather pitiful."

"That doesn't make you more honorable," Cid shot back.

Ermita favored Cid with a raised eyebrow, "Your Highness, honor had nothing to do with the Organization. We existed solely to help the Alliance of Nations create better weapons against the Dragonkin and the Grand Alliance. If you knew the kind of evil we were up against you might think differently about our methods."

Cid scowled, "I don't think so. It took one brilliant silver-eyed general to turn things around there with regular arms, not with your foul experiments."

Ermita relished giving Cid a taste of reality, "Do you really think it's that simple, boy?"

Cid glowered at him, "You will refer to me as Your Royal Highness or this conversation will end immediately."

Ermita sat back, "If you really think the secret to Katarzyna Romanowa's success was only her leadership Your Royal Highness, I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken."

Cid scoffed, "You've been locked up for four years, old man. What could you possibly know of the world outside now?"

"I know enough to be aware that the island has been wracked by political turmoil and civil war these past few years. Why come to an old ex-Organization handler if there's something you don't want to know? You're concerned about what will happen when Queen Violetta returns to reclaim her throne, aren't you?"

Cid didn't say anything but crossed one leg over the other and observed him in silence for several moments.

"It seems Archbishop Galatea's assessment of you wasn't far off," Cid commented. "Let's suppose you're right about Violetta. What lessons can we take from this new empress in the field of battle to use against Violetta?"

Ermita couldn't help but laugh, "I'm sorry Your Highness, but I don't do magic."

Cid glowered at him, "Such a shame. Here I was thinking you might be interested in early release for good behavior."

Cid got up to leave.

"Your Highness, wait," Ermita said, "perhaps I can still be of assistance."

Cid Malaga sat back down and tapped the table impatiently, "Get on with it then."

Ermita explained, "When I joked about magic, Your Highness, I meant that it is nearly impossible for this island to match Empress Katarzyna's tactics. We purposely suppressed the development of armies here, just like we isolated this island from all outside contact. The rest of the world has been developing gunpowder weapons for over three centuries, and from what I hear they were a key part of the empress' success."

Cid was impatient, "Then you can help us adopt them in time to stop Violetta when she comes back, no?"

"You cannot conjure the infrastructure or expertise needed for gunpowder weapons out of thin air," Ermita noted. "It took three centuries to develop gunpowder weapons to what the empress has today. From what I have gathered she's made even more advances."

Cid's brow furrowed, "And how is it you hear these things, Ermita?"

Ermita smiled underneath his mask, "You think guards aren't human beings, Your Highness? Every month I'm asked for a signature or a story from my notorious Organization days, and in exchange they give me news from the outside world."

Cid hissed, "You're still the same old sly bastard we put in here."

Ermita shook his head, "Hardly Your Highness; the alliance to which I owed loyalty is now gone and replaced by a monolithic empire led by someone who would have been a subordinate to me five years ago."

Cid snapped, "That doesn't interest me. What does interest me is we need to modernize and emulate the Romanow army."

Ermita stood up, "I told you, Your Highness, that I don't do magic. You may have taken the first steps towards that goal, but a standing army does not make a professional one!"

"Or maybe I should be talking to a different member of your imprisoned group," Cid threatened. "I'm sure one of them would be more up to the task."

Ermita growled, "Up to the task? You have no official academy to train officers, your logistics is decades away from matching mainland expertise, your most advanced weapons are crossbows and you have no expertise in either the use or making of gunpowder weapons. The empress' army has officer academies and even staff colleges, they have had harquebusiers and wheeled cannon for decades, and from what I've heard she's figured a way to limber lighter cannon to horses. The world has never seen the like of mobile field artillery before, and from the newspapers and gossip your guards give me, she's adopted a sort of new flaming cannon, burning liquid grenades and even purchased more advanced Bretonese gun designs. If you want to match that it will be a minimum of two decades even if your wife pays for it with all the diamonds in her possession."

"We won't have two decades before Violetta returns," Cid shot back.

"She's only coming back if she has enough money to afford an army," Ermita reassured.

Cid sighed and put a hand to his forehead, "Her men stole an entire shipment of diamonds from my wife's company. Diamonds may be becoming cheap here, but I'm told they'll go a long way almost anywhere else. It's only a matter of time before she comes back."

Ermita tapped the table, "Well, this is not nearly as bad a situation as it could be."

Cid frowned, "How could it be any worse?"

Ermita spread his arms out in a gesture, "Consider it from Queen Violetta's perspective. She was hoping the island would fall into civil war while she was away, but thanks to your wife the country is united behind one monarch and one government. It doesn't mean that disgruntled Triarchs and Lautrecians won't come join her when she lands however."

Cid considered this and inquired, "If you were Violetta, what would you do?"

Ermita knew exactly what he'd do in her shoes, "If I were Violetta, I wouldn't head to the Grand Alliance or the Romanow Empire. The Romanows owe their positions to claymores on this island discovering partial awakening. The Grand Alliance would never allow her to hire mercenaries there while the Romanows are beating the hell out of their armies and fleets. Her jewels wouldn't go very far in a country famed for them like the Batticaloan Commonwealth, but they would go very far in Breton or the Republic of Haaraleen."

Cid was clearly disturbed by this, "Their ambassadors said she was not in their countries. Why would they harbor such a woman and lie to us?"

Ermita smiled under his mask, "For the same reasons all men lie, Your Highness. The Bretonese have been playing divide-and-conquer in the Bengal for years. A favorite tactic of theirs is to install puppet rulers and rule through them, and Violetta would give them the keys to a backwards but diamond-rich kingdom they can easily access by sea. The Haaraleenese are a different matter."

Cid's eyes narrowed, "How so?"

Ermita sighed, "Haaraleen, like Breton, is a major naval power. The difference between them is the Haaraleense are famous for allowing almost anyone other than the Bretonese hire their mercenaries. Grand Alliance, Romanow Empire, Bengali princely states; they sell their goods and their soldiers' talents to any of them. The only conflict they don't sell their wares in is between the superpowers. They know the consequences would be dire if they sold to both or picked the wrong side and someone won. If I were Violetta I'd head to Haaraleen; their mercenary soldiers are more professional than the Bretonese and given the end of the recent war, she can probably hire them for cheap."

Cid frowned and tapped the table, "What war, old man?"

_Just like all the islanders; he hasn't a clue about international affairs outside the superpowers' death match. International politics is going to be a rude shock for him. _

Ermita didn't voice his thoughts, "From what I have heard, when Katarzyna Romanowa overthrew the old order with the army's help, a third of the fleet apparently defected to the Haaraleenese, a small number defected to the Bretonese, and a small portion was sunk in battles between loyalists and Romanowans. Haaraleen and Breton are rivals, so when the Haaraleenese fleet tripled in size they threatened to overwhelm Breton. The Bretonese struck first in a surprise attack and won the war. Of course that's not neglecting to mention the Batticaloan Commonwealth joining in against the Haaraleenese and conquering some of their territories on the tip of the Bengal."

Cid looked overwhelmed, "How the hell is someone supposed to keep track of that?"

Ermita admitted, "A diplomat once told me foreign affairs are like 'six-dimensional chess'. Your country is an international midget and worse still it's at least two centuries behind the major powers militarily. I wouldn't seek help from the Bretonese or Haaraleenese; that would just make Toulouse the latest arena in their rivalry. Your best bet is to hire Romanowan military advisors and Batticaloan mercenaries until your military can handle things on its own."

Cid shook his head and sighed, "And who's to say that wouldn't get us involved in some other rivalry?"

Ermita inclined his head, "Certainly that's a possibility, but not if you hired them independently without asking either state for aid."

Cid scoffed, "You want me to send you half way around the world so you can hire mercenaries and advisors?"

"What a novel idea," Ermita replied, "why it's almost like you're reading my mind Your Highness. Since I speak Batticaloan, Bengali, Comnenian and your tongue fluently, I would certainly have no problems in negotiations and—"

Cid cut him off, "Do you think I'm mad enough to send a former Organization man we've imprisoned for the last four years? Why should I trust you to come back at all? How can I know if you did come back the men you'd hire would fight for us and not you?"

Ermita was honest, "You don't, but there are always ways to ensure your interests. You could send me with several claymores and other men you trust."

Cid looked at him as if that was the last thing he wanted to do; he could almost see the mental battle between the need to help the country versus the terror of trusting an Organization man abroad accompanied by several claymores. In the end Cid made a fall-back decision.

"It's up to the Premier Minister and my wife," Cid declared. "I'm not sending you anywhere without their explicit backing."

Ermita stood back up, "That's it I take it?"

Cid murmured, "There is one other thing."

"Oh?"

Cid gestured to the window, "There's a claymore that's developed a disturbing disorder. She has deranged episodes where she displays totally distinct personalities and is a danger to anyone around her. When they end she can't remember half of what happened. I presume you've had to deal with something like this in your days as a handler. We need help treating her condition and preventing another episode."

"The usual Organization procedure was to slate such a warrior for immediate elimination," Ermita noted.

Cid exploded, "That is not an option you bastard!"

Ermita gave Cid a nonchalant stare, "Well that was standard operating practice here in Toulouse. However on the mainland exceptions were sometimes made if the warrior had proven particularly useful. I've heard they called the medication Averium, but I've never made it nor seen it used. You would need a pharmacist of exceptional skill to recreate it from what I've heard. It's going to be very expensive finding someone like that who's willing to come here."

"Money is not a problem," Cid replied.

Ermita smiled under his mask, "It's your wife, isn't it?"

A look of pure loathing crossed Cid's face for a moment, "I said nothing about my wife."

Ermita kept goading him, "It's not her first brush with mental illness you know," he confided. "She had several bouts of severe depression before. But to develop a disorder where she has dissociated personalities is most intriguing. How sad it had to happen just as she's triumphed politically."

Cid grabbed him by the collar and pulled him close, "I've reconsidered my offer. I think I'll recommend you're put on trial for crimes against humanity. God knows you're guilty of them, and I know most people would not shed a tear for your passing."

Ermita hastily amended, "Now Your Highness there's no need for that. Even if I said something no one would believe a former Organization man."

"Not good enough," Cid snapped.

"There's a man here in Toulouse who knows how to make Averium," Ermita declared.

"Who?"

* * *

"Helen, how long are you going to listen?"

Helen drew back from Claire's swelling belly, "I wasn't listening that long."

Claire suppressed a sniff of disbelief, "I thought you said babies didn't interest you."

Helen got up, defensive, "They don't! I was just curious, that's all."

Claire was seated on a bench just outside her small manor in Rabona dressed in a red maternity dress that disguised the growing swell of her pregnant belly. Helen, dressed rather strikingly in a traditional navy-blue leather outfit, stood out in contrast to the crowds of people behind her. It was only the second day after Miria's elevation to queen, and Helen had stopped by the manor for a quick visit. Or rather that had been the plan until Helen had started asking a seemingly endless array of questions about having children and her pregnancy.

Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes, "Right, and you haven't been asking me questions about being pregnant for the last half hour."

This must have struck a nerve, for Helen got louder, "It has not been a half hour!"

Claire touched the necklace that had a small watch on its end, "I've been keeping track of time with this. It has an hour hand that's moved halfway between two and three since I started talking to you."

Helen surprised Claire with her response, "Why doesn't it have a minute hand like the one Galatea put on the Teresian Cathedral?"

Claire tried to ignore the reference to Galatea, "The Bretonese merchant I got it from said watch-makers only recently were able to make pocket watches. I assume they couldn't add a minute hand because they figured out how to do it."

Helen held up the watch and looked at it carefully, "I couldn't have imagined we would have something like this five years ago. Speaking of the past, I believe someone said a certain queen would overthrow democracy and was looking to seize absolute power."

Claire sighed, "Alright Helen, fine, I was wrong. Does that make you happy?"

Helen nudged her in the shoulder, "Come on, Claire, admit it, the Queen did a good job. No civil war, the bad guy is on trial for treason, and her husband even saved your kids. Isn't it about time you admit it was all for the best that Miria became queen?"

Claire groaned, "You are really persistent at pushing people's buttons, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't be me if I didn't," Helen ribbed.

Claire put her hands up as if surrendering, "Look, fine, I'm willing to accept Queen Miria, but I still think the idea of nobility is ridiculous. No one deserves to be more powerful than anyone else just because they're someone's child."

Helen smirked, "Speaking of someone inheriting a powerful position, did you hear about the blow-up between Premier Minister van Willems and our Reina?"

Claire nodded, "You knew that was coming if Miria took the throne. People love Miria, but I don't think they're prepared to accept Natalie as Reina if Miria were to pass away. If I were Ruud van Willems, I'd also demand Miria adopt a more competent heir."

Helen had a guilty look on her face, "Poor girl, though. Natalie's got a good heart."

Claire shrugged, "People want more from their monarch than just a good heart. They expect their monarch to be competent and tough as well."

Helen mocked, "Oh these damn people. First they say they want a devout, empathetic monarch, then the next thing you know they're insisting she's got to be lordly, tough but fair, and so on. How in the world is anyone supposed to match up to those expectations?"

Claire gave Helen a friendly stare, "I seem to recall someone racing to sign up Miria for just that sort of vexing position."

"Ha ha," Helen sarcastically laughed.

Claire looked out at the crush of humanity walking by on the cobblestone streets of Rabona, "There's only one thing that really bothers me. You know how we've helped save Rabona again and again?"

Helen folded her arms, "Yeah?"

Claire gestured towards everything around them, "Doesn't it bother you that we claymores, the queen aside, don't get a say or a vote in the future of our country? Why is it men are the only ones who get a say?"

Helen rudely burst out laughing, tears streaming down from her eyes.

"Oh man, and I thought I said crazy shit after drinking," Helen guffawed.

It took all of Claire's considerable self-control to resist slapping Helen for her insolence.

"I'm serious, "Claire snapped. "If you think Miria deserves the throne, then why don't we deserve a say since we're also silver-eyed like her?"

Helen just managed to stop laughing to respond, "That's easy. We're not as smart and sane as Miria, plus she's a queen, not a politician."

Claire rolled her eyes, "At the very least you just proved you don't understand politics."

Helen asked loudly enough to jolt several passersby, "What does that mean?"

"Whatever you take it to mean," Claire murmured.

Helen, looking rather indignant, kept up her loud talking, "You're mocking me, aren't you? I can see it in that smug little grin you've plastered on your face. 'Oh, look at Helen, she's so stupid she'll never understand a word I say'. Well guess what bitch, I'm onto you. Wait, what were we talking about again?"

It became Claire's turn to enjoy laughing.

Helen pointed a finger at her as she laughed, "Enjoy it while you can, because you'll be writhing in jealousy when you hear about all the great things we've got planned for Galk's bachelor's party. It's going to blow your mind!"

Claire didn't really pay attention to the long rant about all that Helen had planned, and when it had gone on long enough she interrupted.

"Helen, I don't need the détails coquins," Claire informed her peer.

"Oh come on, tell me it doesn't sound awesome," Helen scoffed.

_Just like always, it goes in one ear and right out the other. _

Suddenly a messenger dressed in the gold and black of the Romanow Empire rushed past on horseback at breakneck speed. He nearly clipped a man, provoking a long stream of curses to trail after him. Finally he saluted the two armored soldiers by a carriage entranceway and rushed inside of a massive manor and out of sight. Atop the manor's eight-story tall central tower a large black flag with a double-headed golden eagle upon it waved in the wind. Next to it was the white star upon blue flag of the Kingdom of Toulouse.

Helen frowned, "What the hell's his rush?"

Claire murmured, "Isn't that the late Lord Mayor Zaehringen's manor?"

Helen looked down the busy street towards the huge manor that dominated all around it, "Yeah, that's the one. You can tell Lord 'I'm too high and mighty to let Miria succeed' was a real piece of work just looking at the thing. Zaehringen probably built that sandstone tower so high because he was compensating for something. Am I right?"

Claire pushed aside Helen's elbow, "Do you mind?"

Helen groaned, "Seriously Claire, even Mademoiselle Serious is more fun than this."

Claire shook her head, "Well I'm sorry I don't enjoy getting elbowed as part of jokes like Renée does. That's where the Romanow Empire's embassy is now, right?"

Helen propped up her chin with a hand as she looked at the embassy, "The one and only one, babe. For an delegation to a small country that is one huge embassy. Makes you think they're up to something, to be honest."

Claire paused as she felt a glimmer of yoki far to the south.

Helen looked over, "Something wrong with what I said?"

"I'd prefer if you quit calling me babe," Claire curtly informed her.

Claire ignored the drawn-out defense Helen mounted and concentrated on stretching out her yoki sensing. Claire's heart skipped a beat when she felt what was coming north.

"Claire, you look like you've seen a ghost," Helen commented.

Claire felt her heart pounding as she answered, "I think Violetta may have come back with a lot of new silver-eyed backers."

* * *

"Majesty, we've got the entire city wall manned and we're already sending out messengers for reports from further south," Galk said in his armored best.

Miria, dressed in even more resplendent armor, merely nodded. She looked down at the map Galk had placed in his office atop the southern Rabona barracks. A red horse chess piece represented the probable location of Queen Violetta's forces far to the south. It was near the mouth of the Toulouse River, while Rabona was far further north. A series of blue chess pieces scattered across the island represented various royal forces that were being mobilized or sent orders to mobilize immediately.

Miria looked out on the skyline of Rabona and sighed, "How in the world did she get so many warriors?"

Renée , who was nearby and also armored, interrupted, "Your Grace, I've talked to a number of foreign merchants, and they say a large number of warriors were in the Bengal after the empire collapsed. They estimated a thousand were left there, so it would not be impossible for her to recruit so many."

Miria's husband, dressed in his Holy Day best, shook his head, "The ex-military men from abroad all say those warriors owe their allegiances to princely states or the West Bengal Trading Company. Perhaps a number of warriors from the old Alliance of Nations defected to Haaraleen or Breton following the coup and were open to mercenary work?"

Eyebrows were raised all around the table, including even by Anastasia. Miria, as much as she loved Cid for his devotion and mentoring of Natalie, had never considered her husband much of a political expert. For him to suddenly have an insight on politics was quite surprising.

"The numbers are still horrific if Galatea and Claire are right," Anastasia declared. "I don't think any of us was counting on Violetta mustering a full company of warriors. It's beyond my worst nightmares. I can't help but wonder how Violetta managed to pay for it."

Miria and Cid exchanged glances before Cid answered, "Her men did manage to steal one of our diamond shipments."

Renée countered, "That hardly seems enough to pay for silver-eyed mercenaries and an army as well… Your Highness."

There was an awkward pause until Renée added Cid's new honorific. It was clear that Miria's comrades were going to take some time getting used to her family's new position.

Miria pointed to Rabona on the map, "Diamonds are relatively cheap here; they probably go a lot further on the mainland. General Galacon, how soon will the army be ready to march?"

Galk looked uneasy, "Your Majesty, I'm not certain we should go out to meet a force with a hundred slayers head on. If they have a substantial force of men as well the…"

The door to Galk's office slammed and the tall, silver-eyed Captain Matilda van Houten barged in nearly breathless.

Matilda pointed downstairs and gasped, "Your Majesty, the Imperial Vice Ambassador Lazarov asks to see you."

Miria suppressed a flash of anger, "Tell him I'll see him after the battle. There is no time for niceties at the moment."

Matilda pursed her lips, "Yes, well, Your Grace, he says he just received a message regarding those one hundred slayers. L'impératrice Catherine Romanova has come to make an unannounced visit. The one hundred slayers are part of her bodyguard."

Everyone around the table was frozen in shock, and then abruptly nervous laughter began ringing out and turned heartier. It was hard not to laugh at it all; here they were expecting doomsday and it turned out to be a diplomatic visit by the most powerful sovereign on the planet.

Cid frowned, "The Catherine Romanova? Isn't there a war still going on?"

Matilda squirmed, "Your Highness, I don't know about that. Vice Ambassador Lazarov is here with a guest; shall I bring them up?"

Miria nodded, "Of course, Captain."

Matilda made a respectful bow before turning to rush out of the room.

"I wouldn't have called that in a million years," Galk declared. "That just leaves us with the not-so-minor issue of having to entertain someone of immense stature."

Miria could understand his apprehension, but at the same time it was such a relief that they weren't facing invasion that Miria didn't mind. A few moments later Matilda returned trailing the long-haired and well-dressed Vice Ambassador Lazarov and a male warrior. Miria noticed Renée and Anastasia's eyes were practically glued to this new man. When Miria turned to see him more closely she couldn't disagree with their attraction.

He had a well-defined chin, a strong neck, a handsome, clean-shaven face, short brown-blond hair, stood almost as tall as Galatea, and his athletic, muscular build worked well with his excellent proportions. If there were such a thing as "eye candy" for a female claymore, this male slayer was it. Unfortunately for Miria's roving eyes, all but his head was covered in fine, gold-gilded plate armor. A large claymore was fastened to his back while a strange gunpowder weapon was fastened to a belt around his waist. He held his red-crested helmet in one arm while Lazarov politely bowed before Miria.

Vice Ambassador kissed Miria's outstretched hand, "Reine Miria, comme toujours, votre beauté est aussi brillante que le soleil levant. Elle surpasse toutes les autres."

Cid didn't even blink at the diplomatic floweriness, although Miria spared Renée and Anastasia each a glance. She certainly would not have said her beauty surpassed theirs, but she was queen, so perhaps they'd forgive Lazarov his effusiveness.

Lazarov continued his charm offensive, "My mistress, Sa Suprême Majesté Impériale, l'Imperatrice Catherine is here to cement a fruitful friendship with Toulouse. She is glad to have such an admirable woman upon the throne. She hopes you shall become fast friends. My companion is Lieutenant Commander Havel, a member of Garde d'argent, the Imperatrice's personal bodyguard. He is here to coordinate security in the days before her visit."

Miria held out her hand and smiled, "C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer."

The man looked to Lazarov, who translated it into the seemingly indecipherable tones of Comnenian, a language she had only begun to learn. Havel smiled after hearing the translation and nodded.

Havel bowed politely and kissed her armored hand, "Wielkie dzięki."

Lazarov apparently didn't like his tone, for this response was interrupted by what sounded a little like a reproach.

Lazarov turned back, "The Lieutenant Commander expresses his most profound thanks and hopes that the l'Imperatrice Catherine's visit will be most fruitful."

Miria knew better than to roll her eyes at what was almost surely a lie. The Lieutenant Commander had said nowhere near enough for the translation to be so complex.

Miria frowned at Lazarov, "Vice Ambassadeur, où est votre supérieur?"

Lazarov smiled, "My apologies, Reine. l'impératrice Catherine set sail without sending advance notice for security's sake. She sent for Ambassadeur Tuluzy and his wife when she arrived. They are presently on their way to meet her upon her flagship downriver. Comte Tuluzy hopes you understand."

"Of course," Miria agreed. "But how in the world are we supposed to get ready to receive l'impératrice Catherine properly on such short notice?"

Lazarov hastily explained, "Ambassadeur Tuluzy said he'd try to convince her it'd be best to wait a few days so things can be properly arranged. I have also arranged a great feast to be hosted at the Imperial embassy. I think given Rabona's state of rebuilding, we can all agree it would be best to have such a large event staged at an appropriately large venue. You can of course entertain l'impératrice Catherine anywhere else you please."

Miria nodded, "May I ask why she is here so suddenly? Ours is but a small nation in the world; we are of course grateful for her visit though."

Lazarov admitted, "Votre Grâce, she did not even tell us she was coming. I assume it is to further relations and meet the woman who helped save her life."

Miria smiled in disbelief, "Save her life?"

Lazarov nodded, "Votre Grâce, your discovery of partial awakening was what saved l'impératrice Catherine from awakening and dying several years ago. For that I can only imagine she is most grateful. I must attend to matters here in Rabona while Ambassadeur Tuluzy speaks with l'impératrice Catherine. Merci pour votre temps, ma chère Reine."

With that Vice Ambassador Lazarov bowed once more with Havel, each turned, and then they were quickly gone. No one spoke for several seconds as everyone digested what they'd just heard. Miria settled into the office's lone chair and looked out towards Rabona once more.

Galk interrupted her musing, "We're not seriously letting a hundred elite claymores into the heart of the capital? I know they're a bodyguard force, but to risk such a force inside the city would be dangerous. If they were to turn on us inside the city we wouldn't be able to stop them opening the gates and—"

"That is enough idle speculation, General Galacon," Miria declared. "If l'impératrice Catherine wished to conquer us, she would not have bothered sending an emissary. Even if she does want to conquer us, what would be the point in violently resisting? She's got the most powerful military on the planet, and I am not interested in things ending in a bloodbath. More importantly, if we refuse her bodyguards' entrance it'll be a diplomatic incident and be taken as an insult. We have no choice at the moment but to trust in her peaceful intentions."

* * *

The carriage hit a bump in the road, which had the effect of waking up Audrey's baby son, Andrei II. Little Andrei began crying in discomfort and after several seconds Audrey grabbed him and held him close.

"That's enough, you're fine," Audrey brusquely told her son. "There's no need to cry when your ojciec and matka are right here!"

"Audrey," the boy's father admonished, "that is no way to talk to our son. I know you're new to motherhood but you can't treat a baby like that."

Audrey burst into tears at the lecture, "I am trying to be a good mother!"

Andrei sighed, "Audrey…"

Audrey couldn't contain her frustration and despair with childrearing any longer, "I know what they say, both the maids and the manservants. They look at me and whisper, 'look at her, she can't even take care of her son properly. She is a horrible mother'. They point to Claire de Lautrec and say 'That claymore is a good mother, why is it that that idiot Audrey can't be like her?'"

Little Andrei started up another racket in sympathy with her breakdown.

Her husband put an arm around her, "Audrey, come now dear, I haven't heard anyone disparage you as a mother. I know it's frustrating, but think of how much scarier it was for you all those years ago hunting Awakened for the first time."

Audrey kept crying, "I knew what I was doing against Awakened! It came naturally, and with little Andrei I can't find any instinct for it! There was an instruction manual for fighting Awakened; children don't come with instruction manuals and I'm so bloody helpless. I have no good mothering instincts!"

* * *

Andrei sighed as he heard Audrey make the declaration on her mothering instincts. He reached over and took her head and guided her lips to his. He held the kiss for several seconds, after which her tears stopped flowing. However there was a look of despair upon her face still, something that worried him a great deal. Andrei picked up his son in his thick blue swaddling and calmed his crying fit a little.

The carriage stopped suddenly and Andrei looked out to see the silhouette of ships in the glow of an afternoon sun. The four mounted Imperial Marines escorting the carriage stopped while a pair of well-dressed servants opened the door to the carriage. Andrei shielded his eyes from the sun until they adjusted. When they did, he found a large fleet of impressive warships at anchor along the shores of the Toulouse River. He looked back, north, towards Rabona, and noticed the city was not even visible from this distance. The land here was verdant and the river banks were dotted with tall trees.

Two large camps full of men and tents filled out either side of the plains besides the slow-moving river. The crude road Andrei's carriage have traveled down divided the camp on his side of the river, and was chock full of sailors and Imperial Guardsmen. Andrei walked down the carriage steps and onto the soft grass below. He was glad to find it wasn't mushy given he was wearing his finest shoes and clothes.

He turned back to find Audrey not budging.

"You go on ahead dear," she told him, "the Cesarzowa won't want someone as miserable as I am around her."

Andrei knew better than to let his wife mope, "Come on dear, seeing your sovereign will cheer your heart. You know she cares for you."

Audrey picked up their son and gently walked out of the carriage. She looked miserable, but she'd been miserable since the birth of their boy. Despite Audrey claiming it was because she was a horrible mother, he rather suspected some sort of after-effect of childbirth. Audrey had certainly been anything but depressed or moody before and even during her pregnancy.

"She could have at least told us she was coming earlier," Audrey complained.

Andrei swept an arm around her, "Now dear, what would you do in her place, tell the whole island you're coming a month in advance? The Grand Alliance would probably jump at the chance to kill her."

Audrey for once was quick with the retort, "The Grand Alliance is known for many things; competence at sea is not one of them."

Andrei pointed to two trunks on the back of the elegant carriage, "Servants, grab the trunks and follow me. Come along dear."

A captain in the Imperial Guard walked up in his full armor and saluted.

"Her Grace has been expecting you, Ambassador. Please follow me," the impressively-built man said.

Andrei noticed not one but three ships of massive proportions, each having no fewer than four gun-decks and an extra fifth deck in back as part of their sterncastles. Andrei identified the type of ship immediately when he noticed no similar elevated forecastle.

"Galleons," Andrei noted, "Gods those must be expensive. I see the Cesarzowa was wise enough to bring three flagships. It would make it harder to pick out which one she is aboard."

The nearest galleon, which was topped by an impressive black flag with a golden imperial eagle emblazoned upon it, seemed to be their destination. Several sailors made way for Andrei and Audrey to ascend the wide gangway onto the ship. It was only as they got on deck that they came face to face with a dark-skinned Silver Guard who was only too familiar to Andrei. Andrei exchanged a curious glance with Aminata Zalika, who was wearing the fine duratium armor of the Silver Guard's commanding officer.

"So good to see you again Count Tuluzy," a more welcome voice called out.

A statuesque female warrior with caramel skin had called out to them. She was wearing a fine black and gold military uniform but without a matching hat.

Andrei and his wife bowed as the Cesarzowa walked up, "An honor as always, Your Grace. My wife Audrey and I were most excited to hear you were coming to visit. Naturally I have a full briefing prepared before you enter Rabona later this week."

At this moment his baby son took the opportunity to start crying yet again. Despite Audrey trying to tempt to suck on her tit he pushed it away and kept bawling.

"Here, let me try to calm him," the Cesarzowa said as he took little Andrei.

After several moments of gentle rocking, a bewildered-looking little Andrei was staring at the scarred beauty of the Cesarzowa's caramel-toned face.

"There, you see, he just needed a little reassurance," Katarzyna Romanowa remarked.

Andrei noticed in distress that his wife appeared on the verge of tears again. Her boy hadn't responded to her but instead to a female slayer who wasn't even a mother yet. As it turned out he wasn't the only one to notice Audrey's sad face.

"Oh for goodness sakes, Audrey, don't worry about it," the Cesarzowa said as she handed Andrei's son back.

"Yes Cesarzowa," Audrey miserably agreed.

"Here, hand your son to your dear husband and try this," the Cesarzowa told his wife while handing her a bottle full of clear liquid. "It'll clear up all that misery."

Andrei cradled his son while Audrey gave the offered bottle a dubious look before taking it and drinking it in one gulp.

"It tastes… it tastes better than anything I've ever drunk," Audrey enthusiastically declared. "What's in it?"

"It's full of natural herbs and medical ingredients," the Cesarzowa stated. "Come, I hate being forced to sit anywhere for long. It is so nice to see familiar faces after five weeks at sea. Sit down and let's have a talk."

Nearby, arranged in a semi-circle around an elegant wooden chair, which Andrei guessed to be the Cesarzowa's stand-in throne, were three long black couches of impeccable quality. A middle-aged, balding man holding reading glasses was holding down the couch opposite the throne. All of this was itself under an open-sided white tent tall enough to stand underneath with ease. A literal wall of Silver Guards was arrayed around this.

Katarzyna turned to Aminata, "Get everyone else off-deck and tell Duke Wenceslaus to come up. He should not miss this."

"Yes, Your Grace," Aminata acknowledged.

Andrei had a hard time covering his shock, "You've made your marriage choice, Cesarzowa? I thought you were concerned that Duke Djugashvili might object."

Katarzyna Romanowa smiled as she sat down in her throne, "I found I didn't care after he tried to overthrow me. I nearly perished but for having the foresight to put a small pistol down one of my sleeves before his attack. Thanks to that, I had the good fortune to be able to kill Sergei with a single shot."

Andrei sat down while holding his son, while Audrey for her part appeared not to be listening to their sovereign. Her eyes had a glazed look as she sat upon the couch opposite.

"Dear," Andrei hissed at her.

The empress smiled, "Don't worry about it, my dear ambassador. That's an early side-effect of Averium, or in this case water-diluted Averium. Lazarov told me of your wife's plight and I knew it would be helpful. She'll fall asleep within a minute or so. Commander Zalika, make certain Audrey lies down."

Aminata Zalika gently laid an unresisting Audrey down. Andrei could only look on with concern as his wife slowly and lovingly stroked the couch with a hand.

"So comfy," Audrey drowsily murmured.

"Good god, what's wrong with her?"

A look of annoyance crossed the Cesarzowa's face upon the interjection of Wenceslaus, who had just come onto deck and shouted out in alarm upon seeing Audrey's condition.

"She's perfectly fine," the Cesarzowa reassured him. "She was in need of some serious medication, so I had her drink some diluted Averium. She'll be asleep shortly."

Katarzyna Romanowa clapped her hands and a second throne was put besides hers. Wenceslaus took his seat beside her after reluctantly leaving Audrey to fall asleep.

Andrei noted the simple gold engagement rings both the Cesarzowa and the duke wore but said nothing. He observed Wenceslaus closely; he hadn't done this the last time he had laid eyes on the legendary man. Wenceslaus wore a short but full brown-blond beard and had a vertical scar showed where someone can missed cutting out one of his eyes. He was built like a heavyweight boxer, with a bulldog-like face, strong frame, v-shaped torso and a thick neck, legs that were as thick as small trees, arms that bulged with strength and possessed thick, calloused hands and fingers. He was roughly five centimeters taller than his impressively tall fiancée, and looked like a man who might kill someone with their bare hands. His friendly expression and relaxed demeanor were in sharp contrast to his physical appearance.

_Well one thing's for sure their children won't lack for height. _

Wenceslaus was wearing a blue and white vest, a white long-sleeved shirt underneath, blue trousers, and fine black boots. They were civilian clothes Andrei noticed.

"Ambassador, please proceed with your briefing," Katarzyna told him.

Andrei reached back and grabbed a chest from one of the servants standing behind his couch. He unlocked it with a key from his pocket and opened it towards the Cesarzowa and Wenceslaus.

Andrei did his best to address them correctly, "Your Graces, inside this chest are some of the documents we recovered from the research arm of the old Allied Special Operations Command. We managed to bribe the men guarding it to allow us almost unfettered access for a week before the Grand Alliance intervened. Luckily not long afterwards the site was secured by another detachment from Rabona."

The Cesarzowa asked, "Did any research material fall into Grand Alliance hands?"

"We did our utmost to prevent that," Andrei explained, "although I cannot absolutely guarantee no research material fell into their hands. What I can say is that their plot to take a top former researcher off the island was foiled by our assassins. I can also tell you that the Grand Alliance doesn't have access to any of the dangerous research we will be sending with your flagship back to the mainland."

Wenceslaus looked disturbed, "We have assassins operating here?"

Andrei quickly explained, "Your Grace, the Alliance of Nations maintained spies and assassin sleeper cells worldwide. The Romanow Empire inherited that intelligence network after December 5th of last year."

Wenceslaus belligerently turned to Katarzyna, "Is this the kind of aggressive foreign policy you maintain? Sending assassins after our enemies worldwide?"

_You doubt the judgment of the general who's on the cusp of winning the world's longest war? Have you no sense, Duke Wenceslaus? Foreign affairs is no place for idealism! _

Foreign Minister Bergen, who had been so silent Andrei had forgotten he was there, interrupted, "Your Grace, during the six months after the High Command was overthrown we scarcely had an organized foreign policy, much less an aggressive one. The Cesarzowa has not provoked anyone since with covert operations abroad, unlike her predecessors."

Wenceslaus turned to Andrei, "Yet I hear we have undertaken operations involving deadly force, bribery of foreign soldiers and heard that you personally intervened in Toulousaine domestic politics, Ambassador. How are we not provoking the locals?"

"Of course he's intervened in their politics," Katarzyna snapped. "In the last four years on this island there has been one civil war, an Inquisition insurrection, and two major coup attempts. It was Grand Alliance agents who supplied the Angevin royals, it was the Angevins who supplied the Inquisition, and it was a GA agent blowing up a lord that caused Rabona to unite with Lautrec to quash said Inquisition. It was their ambassador that then attempted to smuggle a top-level researcher off this island. He also used his agents to trick Rabona's late leader into declaring all his silver-eyed warriors traitors, and then backed the Angevins to take over the country via a coup and bring them into the war as part of the Grand Alliance."

The look of disapproval on the empress' face was plain, "So tell me dear, who was it that did the provoking? We bribed the soldiers to prevent the Grand Alliance access to secrets they might use against us, we exposed their plots to Rabona when there was no other choice, we killed the Grand Alliance ambassador and the Organization agent with assassins when they were about to leave the island, and it was the Ambassador that saved the life of the current queen. I will not hear of you second-guessing Ambassador Tuluzy again; in my opinion he has done a magnificent job given the circumstances."

The look of passion on the empress' face told Andrei her defense was heart-felt.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he nodded.

"I almost forgot the Angevins burning down our prior embassy," the empress piled on.

Bergen tapped his couch and gave a warning stare, "Cesarzowa."

The empress took a deep breath and let the situation cool down. Andrei was already of the opinion that the marriage was going to be more than a little interesting when Wenceslaus was elevated to her equal. He just hoped they could make it work for everyone's sake.

Bergen added one last bit of explanation for Wenceslaus' benefit, "The Bretonese and Haaraleenese established the world's first permanent embassies to support their ambassadors ten years ago. Of course they included more than just diplomats, but also spies. We took that concept one step further; our ambassadors are responsible for both diplomacy and covert operations abroad. Now then, please proceed Ambassador Tuluzy."

Andrei spared his now unconscious wife a glance before beginning, "Your Graces, the situation as it stands looks good, though there are reasons for worry. We have spies in every major government institution, Premier Minister van Willems' latest mistress is on our payroll, we have informers in the queen's household, we also have informants in the homes of several prominent warriors, and we know more about events on the island than their government."

The Cesarzowa asked, "Do we have spies in the Haaraleenese and Bretonese embassies?"

Andrei felt his heart skip a moment, "Not yet, Your Grace."

The Cesarzowa looked out across the water, "Better get on it, Ambassador."

* * *

Renée was dressed in a fine red gown adorned with diamonds of many colors, sizes and shapes. She had expected to find it annoying to wear, but it looking ravishing and glittery as she inspected herself in a mirror.

"Seriously Renée , are you going to stand there all day admiring how the low cut makes your boobs look bigger?"

Renée turned to find Helen in a more elegant full-length blue dress nearby with a scowl upon her face.

"Well excuse me if I don't mind dressing up," Renée shot back.

"Come on, the others left already," Helen urged. "We don't want to be late!"

They were on the bottom floor of Claire and Raki's manor in southern Rabona. The twins, so far as Renée knew, were fast asleep upstairs. Renée hustled towards the door only to hear a crash behind her.

"Fucking hell," Helen cursed as she disentangled her shoes from her dress, "this is why I hate dressing up."

"You have to hold up the dress in front, otherwise you're going to fall flat on your face every time. See like this," Renée showed Helen by holding up her dress' front with two hands.

Helen rubbed her head where it had hit the wood floor, "Now you tell me."

Renée helped Helen to her feet with a hand and then there was a knock on the door.

They opened it to find a painter carrying two closed buckets of paint.

The young man doffed his cap, "Bonjour, belles dames. Which of you is Claire de Lautrec?"

"She's not here but she said for you to leave your painting supplies downstairs after you finish painting the front of the house," Renée said.

"Of course," the painter nodded.

Renée and Helen walked outside into the surprisingly empty streets.

"Man that's eerie," Helen commented.

Renée shook her head, "Do you expect anything else when the world's most powerful sovereign is about to come to town? Everyone's probably at the parade route for her grand entrance into the city."

They rushed onwards now at a slow jog by claymore standards, which proved a difficulty even for Renée in a dress that was surprisingly heavy. Helen as usual kept up a running commentary that could be quite distracting.

"Fricking hell," Helen cursed as she nearly fell on her face again, "this is a pain in the ass. How can women get used to having all this weight on them all the time?"

Renée ignored the comment as best she could.

Helen kept it going however as they jogged along, "This underwear is annoying as hell. It itches and constrains my movements. Makes you want our old one-piece leather suits, right?"

"Helen," Renée warned.

The fact there were people around didn't seem to affect Helen in the slightest.

Helen ranted, "The next time we go out, I swear I'm going commando."

Renée grabbed her by one arm, "Would it kill you to watch what you say in public? People are going to think we're all skanks with you going on about not wearing any underwear."

Helen deadpanned, "Fine, Queen Killjoy."

Renée ignored this as they neared the bridge into the new western half of Rabona and the crowds became appreciably bigger. They weaved their way through them towards the new citadel where the reception for the empress was being held. The Queen and everyone who mattered in Rabona was going to be there. At least that's what Claire had told them.

Helen nudged Renée as they were cross under a citadel gate, "Take a look at that."

The parade route behind them was jammed with seemingly every person in the city. The cobblestone street was kept clear by two ranks of armored soldiers. These ranks were a mix of Imperial Guardsmen and native Rabonese men, but it was clear to all which group was a disciplined elite and which group was not. The windows of every building along the route were all shuttered close or boarded up. Up above more men guarded the rooftops, with the locals armed with crossbows and the Imperial Guard with guns. It was a disconcerting mismatch.

"They don't mess around," Helen commented.

"I heard they swept the entire city parade route for explosives," Renée remarked as several guards waved them through a security checkpoint.

Beyond they rushed through the large citadel square, with the Parliament to the north and what was to be the Lord Mayor's palace to the south. That had lasted right up until new Premier Minister van Willems had decided it would be a great permanent residence for the country's top elected politician. With no new elected Lord Mayor to contest this, it had been taken over without resistance. Renée couldn't help but wonder what would become of the once-powerful Lord Mayor position.

A number of locals were observing the square from their manors on the citadel's east side, but were under careful watch of armed soldiers. At Parliament there was a red carpet laid out and every notable imaginable gathered at the entrance.

"I see the queen," Renée remarked as they got closer.

It was not possible to stand upon the red carpet, which was solely for the queen's family and her Premier Minister. Instead Renée and Helen took up spots just besides the Galacon brothers and Clarice to the side. An honor guard of finely dressed but unarmored soldiers wielding halberds held everyone else back from the red carpet.

"Wow, would you look at the Queen," Helen whispered.

Miria was dressed in a blue and gold-trimmed dress adorned with a stunning array of jewels. She wore large sapphire earrings, an ornate golden necklace set with emeralds, and had a small diamond-studded silver circlet upon her head. Her hair was curled beautifully and between the diamonds and the bright sunlight she was gleaming. Natalie was behind her mother and similarly bedazzling, while Cid had opted for a more elegant attire.

"Hey, look over there," Helen murmured, pointing, "you see the three guys opposite us with all the attendants behind them?"

Renée whispered back, "Yeah?"

"Those are the new Bretonese, Haaraleenese and Batticaloan ambassadors."

Renée didn't have another second to consider this for the next second the trumpeters atop the Parliament's balconies began loudly belting out music.

Helen looked around and asked, "What's going on?"

"That's the fanfare for when the empress' carriage is about to come," Renée explained.

When that carriage did enter pulled by eight beautiful black mares it took everyone's breath away. Renée didn't think she'd ever seen something so amazing.

The ride had started magnificently, with the Cesarzowa surprising Dietrich with an invite to join her, Duke Wenceslaus, Foreign Minister Anders Bergen and Ambassador Andrei Tuluzy in her personal carriage. Although the Cesarzowa was not thrilled that a mere two thousand Imperial Guardsmen were allowed inside Rabona, Ruud van Willems' willingness to allow all one hundred members of the Silver Guard inside mollified her.

The convoy had started out from a few kilometers south of Rabona's walls where they had established a more convenient camp. From there they were escorted by mounted members of the Imperial Guard and a running guard of silver-eyed protectors. Two more carriages of simpler design followed their carriage, one full of doctors and the other prominent merchants from the empire. The forty-minute trip to the southeastern gate of Rabona would have been pleasant but for Wenceslaus interrupting the relative quiet.

Wenceslaus told his fiancée flatly as the walls of Rabona came into sight, "I said it before and I'll say it again; you must rescind that order on getting spies into the Haaraleenese and Bretonese embassies."

Dietrich knew the Cesarzowa well enough to see the annoyance building under her seemingly unaffected face. In general Dietrich tried to avoid testing the Cesarzowa's patience, which was not great; Wenceslaus, a model of patience and stubborn to boot, was a man who would say whatever he wanted if he felt it was the right thing to do.

Wenceslaus continued the lecture, "If that were discovered it could cause a diplomatic incident and that might lead to a possible crisis in relations with Haaraleen and Breton. You said it yourself earlier that we cannot afford them joining in on the side of the Grand Alliance. We are on the cusp of victory, Cesarzowa," Wenceslaus reminded.

Katarzyna restrained her annoyance, "Very well dear, I'll reduce the order to getting documents and other things out of their trash."

Wenceslaus added an ill-advised statement, "This is exactly why you need a less rash man like me upon the throne. When I am Cesarz, I intend that foreign policy will be conducted in a much more reasoned manner."

Katarzyna's face flushed with blood, "Much more reasoned foreign policy when you come onto the throne? I am not giving up my throne, Wenceslaus."

"A woman must obey her husband in all things, regardless of whether they are silver-eyed or not," Wenceslaus stubbornly insisted. "It is in every marriage vow."

Katarzyna exploded, "You are in no position to dictate to me! I won that throne by my own efforts. You did not fight the Grand Alliance to a standstill, you did not help Poniatowski organize the coup, you did not crush the alliance loyalists thereafter, and you most certainly did not win the battle of Liberec that has brought us to the cusp of victory in the Great War. There wouldn't be a throne but for me!"

Wenceslaus stubbornly insisted, "A man is the master of his own house. I am not going to be humiliated as the first man who was ruled by his wife or adopted her last name."

Ambassador Tuluzy tried to intervene, a look of fear upon his face, "Your Graces, I realize this excites your passions—"

"When you have earned the right to rule on your own let me know," Katarzyna mocked. "Perhaps I can get someone to massage your chauvinist ego for you while you're adding to your ruling credentials."

"You're proving right now why a man should always rule instead of an excitable and emotional woman," Wenceslaus proudly proclaimed.

Bergen interrupted in a loud by calm voice, "From where I sit, the two of you are proving nothing other than the fact that even the two most powerful people on the planet are capable of childish, short-sighted fights."

_He did not just tell them that. _

Bergen shocked everyone in the carriage silent with the audacity of his statement. Dietrich had heard of only two other individuals who had ever stood up to silver-eyed slayers in a similar manner: Marshal Korsakov and the War Minister Antoni Poniatowski. Dietrich had a huge amount of respect for anyone willing to say something unflattering to a silver-eyed leader.

Bergen continued more intensely, "I would not be your most devoted servant if I did not tell you how stupid it is to have such an argument. The truth is that neither of you will get all that you want, and you should recognize it is too late to back out of the marriage. To do so would show you to be capricious and incapable of holding to your promises."

The most amazing thing to Dietrich was both Wenceslaus and Katarzyna didn't interrupt a man who was ostensibly their subordinate.

Bergen put down his glasses to look them square in the eyes, "You, Duke Wenceslaus, need to recognize that a silver-eyed general who has attained power is not likely to give it all up. On the other hand, you, Cesarzowa, need to legitimize your power by bringing in Wenceslaus' backers and be willing to accept some limits on your powers. If you want this marriage to work, there needs to be a compromise."

Katarzyna was taken aback, "Right now?"

"You are about to meet a foreign monarch and her chief public servant," Bergen noted. "You will need to show a united public face now or our enemies will see it as proof of internal divisions they can exploit. I propose joint rule, with each of you having a veto over all major matters of policy. The catch is that if you veto everything you dislike, the other is likely to return the favor and you will get nothing done. I can assure you, nothing would help our enemies more than that, so you are going to have to compromise. Duke Wenceslaus will adopt the Romanow name…"

Wenceslaus looked as if he were having a case of indigestion.

"As you lack a last name presently," Bergen finished. "But in return the Cesarzowa will agree to de-centralize some of the state and limit the power of the military. A civilian or ex-military man will head a new position as head of government, though you will have the power of appointment, veto and firing over him. I propose Antoni Poniatowski as your first Grand Chancellor; he's well-liked, would appease the military, and he's competent."

The Cesarzowa looked impressed even with her face obscured by a veil, "You've been planning this for some time."

Bergen chuckled, "I actually was just making it up on the spot."

Dietrich and everyone else blinked in polite disbelief; it hardly seemed possible for Bergen to have made up such a thing on the spot. Dietrich noticed Wenceslaus had a sour look upon his face like that of a boxer who'd been knocked out when a 'nobody' had surprised him with a powerful sucker punch.

Dietrich just noticed they had entered Rabona proper and huge crowds of curious and joyous people were looking in on the five of them. She felt rather exposed wearing a fine red dress but no hat or veil and riding in the imperial carriage back into her former country's capital. Dietrich wondered if any of her former comrades had identified her yet. The Cesarzowa, who was wearing a wide, circular hat with a veil over a gorgeous white-and-gold full-length dress with a high collar, looked positively anonymous in contrast. Andrei Tuluzy and Anders Bergen had dressed in elegant but unremarkable black outfits.

Bergen waved briefly at the crowds before turning to the unruly future couple, "Well then Your Graces, will you agree to the terms of this compromise?"

Katarzyna smiled, "If it means I don't have to have this argument again, then yes."

Wenceslaus, stubborn to the end, took several seconds longer to grudgingly accede, "Very well."

"I suggest you wave at the crowds, Duke Wenceslaus," Bergen urged.

Katarzyna Romanowa was already waving to the crowds, but Wenceslaus did not follow Bergen's advice except for a single wave. Wenceslaus may have loved democracy, but Dietrich noticed he lacked the Cesarzowa's graceful touch with the masses. That was also an irony, as Katarzyna had a virulent antipathy towards much of popular opinion, especially if she perceived injustice in the public's beliefs.

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence, and Dietrich could see Andrei Tuluzy and the Cesarzowa visibly relax. Dietrich was surprised to find them going west onto a bridge over the Toulouse River. Rabona in the past was only on the eastern banks of that river, but it appeared there was a new western side of the city. A large stone citadel on the river's edge dominated the central section of western Rabona. They passed under one of its gates to find a row of manors to the right, a sandstone palace to the left, and a large granite residence with a tower straight ahead.

The Imperial Guardsmen on horseback escorting them peeled off as they approached the red carpet. Dietrich's stomach clenched when she noticed Miria awaiting them. Dietrich had been gone so long that she thought about reuniting with her former companions.

_I just had to make this awkward didn't I? Why couldn't I have turned down the invitation and met them all somewhere less embarrassing? They're all going to be staring at me when they see me trailing behind the Cesarzowa. _

When the dark-skinned Commander Zalika opened the door the Cesarzowa was first out, followed by Wenceslaus, then Foreign Minister Bergen and Ambassador Tuluzy. Dietrich was last out and at first didn't see any strange looks.

A female voice loudly commented, "Je pensais qu'elle était morte."

Dietrich saw Helen and Renée out of the corner of her eye staring in disbelief right at her. They were several meters and rows of people back from the red carpet, where the Cesarzowa and Queen Miria were already exchanging pleasantries. More awkward still Dietrich saw Galatea now bizarrely dressed in a male priest's outfit with a bishop's hat atop her head coolly observing her. Not far away was Clarice and Galk, and she noticed other warriors further back, from plump Julie to skinny Camilla and even curly-haired, buxom Anastasia.

She relieved the immense awkwardness of the moment by giving them all a brief wave before catching up with the Cesarzowa's party. The awkwardness however only got worse when an ornately adorned Miria noticed her.

Miria addressed her directly, "Dietrich? Grâce au ciel! Nous avons pensé que vous étiez morte depuis que vous aviez disparu. Comment avez-vous fini au service de l'impératrice Catherine?"

Dietrich was not surprised Miria thought she had died, although it would have taken a lot more time to explain just how it was she had become engaged in service to the Cesarzowa.

Dietrich blushed, "C'est une très longue histoire, Votre Majesté."

* * *

Miria had had a very cordial but brief talk with Empress Catherine on the red carpet and was shocked to find her long-lost friend engaged in the empress' service. Unfortunately there hadn't been the time to hear more, and indeed it might have been taken as a slight to Catherine, who was a genuinely impressive figure. Catherine Romanova just managed to over-top Galatea in height, but Romanowa had far greater presence and intelligence than the self-declared Archbishop of the Rabona Orthodox Church.

Part of it was certainly the height and her impressive outfit, but Miria felt a sort of indescribable charisma in the empress. Her fiancée on the other hand lacked much of that charisma, being an absolute hunk of a warrior. His manners did not match his fairly attractive appearance. They seemed a very respectable couple, although they did not seem to talk much. Miria guessed that was probably due to the occasion.

Finally Katarzyna got done being introduced to members of Parliament, which had taken an inordinate amount of time because everything had to be translated by her ambassador, Andrei Tuluzy. The empress turned back to Miria and Ruud van Willems, who Miria guessed was probably relishing the moment, as it made him look good to be dealing with the head of a superpower.

"We should head inside the Parliament," Miria told Ambassador Tuluzy, who was standing just off the empress' left shoulder between them.

He translated this to Imperatrice Catherine, who nodded. Miria walked to the left down the red carpet and into the Parliament with Cid trailing and Ruud van Willems off her left shoulder. Ambassador Tuluzy was to Miria's right between her and the empress, while the empress' fiancée walked further to her right and the Imperial Foreign Minister Bergen and Dietrich trailed behind.

Catherine said quite a bit in her sharp tongue, which was utterly unlike the smooth Toulousain Miria spoke. Andrei Tuluzy listened very carefully before translating.

Andrei looked to Miria, "L'impératrice Catherine is most impressed with the progress of Rabona since I was posted here. It was a quaint town when I arrived, and it is becoming quite lovely even as it has grown."

Miria noticed Cid briefly scowling at the word 'quaint' out of the corner of her eye.

Andrei never noticed, "Her Grace is interested in sealing a treaty of friendship and trade with your kingdom. She has also heard of your worry about the return of this pretender, Violetta. If your kingdom were to agree to a substantial cut in tariffs on wares sold by our merchants, Her Grace would gladly offer naval support to protect your realm."

Miria pressed Ruud van Willems for his opinion, "Monsieur le Premier Ministre, do you have any comments on the offer?"

Ruud looked a little uncomfortable, "Well it is of course a most gracious offer, but I think it would be only possible for Parliament to back it if a similar reduction on tariffs for our goods in the empire were granted."

This was conveyed to the empress who nodded.

"Her Grace has agreed," Ambassador Tuluzy declared.

Imperatrice Catherine began speaking at length again.

Andrei translated, "Her Grace is interested in the status of the Organization prisoners. Dae Prado was recently sprung from one of your prisons by Grand Alliance agents. Had there not been a fortuitous accident with gunpowder in Gonal, Monsieur Prado might have been unleashing his creations upon imperial troops. We fear that given the interest of other major powers in acquiring the services of these monstrous men, a new country like yours may lack the ability to stop them given their far greater resources. Her Grace offers to take them off your hands, which will keep this matter from troubling your fine country any further."

"We will need some time to consider the merits of the offer," Miria replied.

_I don't know if she appreciates there's nothing more politically toxic than handing over Organization prisoners to a foreign government. _

Andrei continued after the empress spoke again, "Her Grace is aware of your plight with regards to modernizing your military as well. She offers military instructors and experts in all areas for an appropriate fee of course."

Cid pointed out, "The Bretonese and Haaraleenese ambassadors approached us about that this afternoon. The Haaraleenese said they were willing to send trainers, engineers and chemists, and the Bretonese offered something similar."

Andrei didn't let this news trouble his face as he translated Cid's words.

The empress' face contained a flash of annoyance that was gone almost immediately. She spoke at some length to her ambassador before being satisfied with her response.

Andrei smiled as he translated, "Your Graces, Your Eminence, while we require payment for our soldiers' expertise, it is because we are being honest with you. Breton and Haaraleen have a long and well-known history of using various means to further their influence overseas far beyond that wanted by the recipients of their aid. The Nawab of Sikunderabad was offered a similar deal five years ago; his nephew deposed him with the aid of his Bretonese military 'advisors' two years ago. Unlike them we are not interested in overseas colonies."

Cid prodded, "Your predecessors thought otherwise."

Andrei translated this quickly to empress who surprisingly smiled when she replied.

Andrei grinned, "Your Royal Highness, your government is the only other on this planet headed by a silver-eyed head of state. Your wife's discovery of partial awakening helped turn the war around for us. We have every possible reason to remain your friends."

Miria gave Cid a warning look, "If you'll follow me, I wanted to show you the Parliamentary chamber before the state dinner later tonight."

"_I do hope dinner has space for two." _

Miria froze upon hearing the voice of one of her other personalities.

Cid touched her on the shoulder, "Something wrong dear?"

Miria concentrated her mind and suppressed the personality before turning to her husband, "I'm fine. Let's continue."

* * *

Andrei sighed as he sat down at the imperial table. It had been an exhausting and stressful day; particularly when he had to delicately translate between the Cesarzowa's party and the Queen's party. The pressure to get his translation absolutely right was immense. Thankfully that had gone well and the Cesarzowa and Queen Miria had gotten along as well as he could hope. They might have had a genuine friendship if either of them spoke the other's language. Sadly that was not possible and things had merely stayed cordial.

"Your wife has come to see you."

Andrei was jolted out of his contemplation and looked over to see his long-haired, silver-eyed deputy, Jose Lazarov.

He gave Josef an appreciative pat, "Thanks my friend. How is she?"

"Better than she was," Josef blandly answered.

Andrei had been leaning against the great window in his office on the top floor of the new embassy. He spared the moon-lit skyline of Rabona at night a glance before picking up a lit candlewick and walking downstairs. He found it far more crowded than normal because the embassy was hosting a state dinner party for the Cesarzowa later. Andrei weaved his way down the marble stairway, which was cluttered with Imperial Guardsmen and various merchants from the empire. A few of them recognized him and moved aside, but most were new here.

Andrei had descended four stories from his eighth story office when he turned into a new hallway. He smiled when he found Audrey suckling their young son just outside the door to their grand new quarters.

"Hello dear," Audrey greeted him.

Andrei smiled, "How is our little darling?"

Audrey spoke with a touch of humor he had not heard since the birth, "Oh you know our little boy, he likes his attention and he's even greedier for my milk."

Andrei laughed, "It looks like the medicine worked then."

Audrey shook her head, "I don't think it did. I still think I'm not a very good mother."

Andrei sighed, "I suppose you'll take some convincing, but trust me dear, you sound much happier than you were earlier."

"Ambassador Tuluzy?"

Andrei turned to find a young Imperial Guard officer dressed in a cuirass and the black and gold of his unit was waiting upon him.

The officer handed him a paper, "Her Supreme Imperial Majesty and His Grace, Duke Wenceslaus have arrived. The other ambassadors wish to be introduced to them."

Andrei looked over the names, "These men have all the proper credentials then?"

The officer nodded, "Yes, Your Excellency; we always do a thorough job of checking such matters, especially after the attempt on the Cesarzowa's life."

Andrei read the names off, "Royal Ambassador of the Kingdom of Breton, Earl Scott Harper, Ambassador Extraordinaire of the Batticaloan Commonwealth's, Rajadhi Premadasa, Ambassador-at-large and Minister Plenipotentiary of the Republic of Haaraleen, Klaas van Robben. Well I'll give the Haaraleenese credit; they certainly trust their man giving him those kinds of negotiating powers."

"Your Excellency," the officer reminded.

"Yes, yes," Andrei agreed.

"I'll be waiting for you when you get back," Audrey whispered in his ear.

_I guess there's something worth looking forward to tonight after all. _

The Imperial Guardsman escorted him downstairs to the grand banquet room, which the late Lord Mayor Zaehringen had generously outfitted with the latest chandeliers from Haaraleen. It gave the two-story tall room a brighter look than otherwise and showed off the fine tapestries and paintings on the walls and ceilings. Below this were dozens of large circular tables with best fine silverware and the porcelain dishes money could buy upon them. The room was massive by Rabonese standards, and it was easy to lose sight of someone at the far end.

He had absolutely no problem spotting the empress and her party despite the banquet hall being jammed, as the Cesarzowa's table was encircled by Silver Guards. Queen Miria and her party had settled into the table right next to this one. A few tables further over Andrei was amused to notice Dietrich happily chatting it up with her former silver-eyed comrades. Then he spotted the three ambassadors standing respectfully a short way off.

The men were all of middle age, the Haaraleenese and Bretonese ambassadors wearing a similar style while the Batticaloan Ambassador wore clothes more appropriate on a Bengali prince. Premadasa looked rather out of place wearing a long red-and green Kamees shirt and embroidered blue silk trousers, although admittedly the Cesarzowa's hat, languid sleeves, high collar and black and white dress differed markedly from those worn by the locals.

Andrei gave a little bow before the ambassadors, "Excellencies, I'm sorry I had to keep you waiting. I assume you're here for an introduction to the Cesarzowa; that is correct?"

The plump Bretonese ambassador, Harper, scowled, "Why else would we be here?"

_Your Comnenian is better than your manners, Earl Harper. _

Andrei left this unsaid and instead guided the men over.

Silver Guard Aminata Zalika grudgingly let him pass with the ambassadors in tow. These men were a little apprehensive but seemed otherwise sure of themselves. The Cesarzowa was enjoying a good conversation with her Foreign Minister as he came over, and it seemed even Wenceslaus was enjoying the food and festivities.

Andrei delicately touched the Cesarzowa and the Duke on the shoulders, "Your Graces, the ambassadors from the Batticaloan Commonwealth, Kingdom of Breton, and the Republic of Haaraleen are here to greet you. This will only take a moment of your time."

Katarzyna Romanowa eyed the men and motioned them over.

Andrei introduced the Batticaloan Ambassador, Premadasa, first.

Premadasa bowed, "It's a pleasure to meet you in person, Your Imperial Majesty."

"I hope our governments can continue their mutual friendship," Katarzyna graciously replied. "Give my regards to your Raj."

No one missed the purposeful slighting of the empress by Premadasa's refusing to acknowledge her title of 'Her Supreme Imperial Majesty'. The Cesarzowa let it go, as no one other than Queen Miria's government had acknowledged the title. Foreign governments seemed to think it meant Katarzyna was sovereign over all, which Andrei knew was not the intent. Rather it had been adopted to show she was of superior rank to the mere emperors in the Grand Alliance who answered to the Dragonkin's chieftain, Stahl Fang.

Premadasa stood aside as Harper came forward and bowed and was introduced.

"Imperial Majesty," he said in perfect Comnenian, "it is a pleasure to meet you finally. I have heard so much about you before being posted here. I do hope we can maintain fruitful relations between Breton and your empire."

Katarzyna grinned, "As do I, dear Ambassador."

Harper however quickly deviated from diplomatic niceties, "Your Grace, my government still desires that compensation be given to the Bretonese owners who were deprived of their property following your ascension. Surely you recognize that they should be guaranteed due process and their day in court. If their property is not returned then—"

Katarzyna Romanowa looked as if she'd heard this all many times before, "The 'property' you refer to Ambassador Harper is not property at all but human beings. Why should I give Bretonese slaveowners 'due process' when they gave no such right to the millions they had enslaved and thereby profited? I have been over this with your ambassador in Visegrad as well, and my answer has not changed. There will be no reinstatement of slavery, nor will the owners be compensated for their loss monetarily. Does slavery not trouble the hearts of all the men in Breton's parliament who proclaim themselves lovers of freedom?"

Harper was more diplomatic, "It does indeed trouble some, but change comes slow and slavery is still part of the moral and economic fabric of world society."

The Cesarzowa waved him away and then was introduced to the Haaraleenese envoy.

This went rather well in contrast to the testy exchange with Earl Harper, and the Batticaloan and Haaraleenese emissaries benefitted by being given seats at the Cesarzowa's table. Earl Harper in contrast was left to find his own place nearby.

Dinner was going very well for quite awhile when a young man with a widow's peak, brown hair and blue eyes got up. He raised a glass, and at first Andrei did not recognize him.

"I propose a toast," the young man shouted in Comnenian over the din.

Andrei could not make out his face particularly well at the distance and in such dim light. He squinted to get a better look.

"A toast to the Cesarzowa," the well-dressed young man shouted. "I propose a toast for all of the Cesarzowa's fine victories, her freeing of the slaves and serfs, and her great accomplishments in government. May they never be forgotten as the acts of an illegitimate usurper of my throne and the murderess of hundreds of royal children."

Andrei, too late, realized who was speaking. Uproar ensued as Alexander Comnenus finished his speech and thus spectacularly crashed the party. Andrei had nearly forgotten about the last legitimate heir to the now non-existent Comnenian throne had been exiled to Toulouse. It was not the way he envisioned ever being reminded of that fact. The target of Alexander's mocking toast was herself surprisingly calm, but Alexander could see a silent fury underneath the Cesarzowa's calm exterior.

Andrei rushed over and shouted to the nearest Imperial Guardsmen, "Get him out!"

* * *

Claire found the parting ceremony far more relaxing than the shocking conclusion to the state dinner at the Romanow Empire's embassy the prior night. As it turned out, her twins' former tutor and part-time caretaker was none other than Alexander Comnenus, heir to the defunct Kingdom of Comnenia's throne and a king-in-exile. He'd been taken out of the embassy by the empress' elite bodyguards. Upon getting out of the party Queen Miria and Ruud van Willems had promptly taken charge of the situation.

The result was that Alexander Comnenus was now in prison for 'disturbing the peace' and 'insulting the dignity of a foreign head of state'. Claire was fairly certain Ruud van Willems was responsible for the charges, although Miria seemed to also have little sympathy, believing Alexander had caused a ruckus. It had taken army troops to disperse the curious crowd that gathered to watch Alexander be taken to prison. Claire rather doubted he'd be in prison long once the empress was off the island. It seemed like Ruud van Willems' actions were explained far more as a sort of appeasement to a very powerful couple than as any sort of justice.

But for the moment all of that was behind them. Claire, wearing a red maternity dress over her swelling belly, took a seat a little way on a pier on a little ways away from where the parting ceremony was taking place. Queen Miria and Empress Catherine were shaking hands before a boat readying to take the taller of the two downriver to her escorting fleet.

This time though Claire and Miria's old comrade Dietrich was translating for the two very well-dressed monarchs.

"Her Supreme Imperial Majesty enjoyed her time visiting Rabona and hopes you will come and visit her in Visegrad someday," Dietrich said.

Everyone was wearing their formal best and on good behavior at the pier, which was chock full of notables from both countries. Each of those notables was crowding around the cordon of bodyguards for a better look at the final ceremony.

"I hope to make the journey when I can," the queen smiled. "Before you go, Imperatrice, I brought a parting gift for you."

Miria waved a gloved hand over at some servants, who brought over a heavy chest.

Dietrich hastily translated into Comnenian, which to Claire sounded like a language badly in need of some more vowels.

The empress managed a grin when Miria handed her the chest's key. She deftly opened the chest and flipped it open. A shocked murmur rang out from the crowd. The empress reached inside and pulled out a blue sapphire the size of her head. It was the most beautiful thing Claire had ever seen. This was put back, and it soon became apparent the chest was filled with gems of wildly varying colors, shapes, sizes and values. Miria could afford to give away such a treasure given her hoard of gems in the mine near Pieta, but it still impressed even knowing that.

Catherine Romanova gave Miria a heartfelt hug of appreciation and waved over to some of her aides.

"Imperatrice Catherine in return for this magnificent present would like to present you and the people of Toulouse with a parting gift you may find of great use," Dietrich declared, as the empress hadn't said anything.

The empress pointed to a trim, three-mast galleon docked nearby. At her signal the white star upon blue flag of Toulouse was unveiled from its pennant. There was much cheering and appreciative clapping.

This time the empress spoke at length, which took Dietrich awhile to translate.

"The empress heard your nation utterly lacked a navy," Dietrich explained. "This 28-gun galleon is as modern as they come and will serve your country well. We will have a few experts stay behind to help you repair its rudder and train you how to use it properly. Other than its rudder it is entirely ready to serve at your pleasure."

Queen Miria gave her guest a heartfelt smile, "Merci. You have our most heartfelt thanks and I hope I may someday see you on the mainland."

Dietrich translated this and the two kissed each other twice on the cheeks. The tall empress gave a parting nod and turned to motion to her men in the waiting barge. The empress clambered aboard followed by her fiancée and entourage. Only Dietrich lingered on the pier.

Dietrich gave them all a pained smile as she looked over her friends and former comrades-in-arms. Claire stared into Dietrich's eyes, and she stared right back. It was not hard to appreciate how emotionally difficult it was for Dietrich. She had left Toulouse on what was supposed to be a routine trip aboard a fisherman's carrack and had instead been blown off course and washed up on the mainland. Now she was about to depart her old friends and the only homeland she had ever known yet again. Claire felt an overwhelming amount of sympathy inside for the awkward situation Dietrich had fallen into.

A single tear streaked down Dietrich's cheek as she turned to Miria.

Miria embraced Dietrich in one last hug, "I will not say adieu, my dear friend, for I believe we shall meet again. None of us will forget how you fought and bled alongside us to overthrow the Organization. If you wish to stay here with us you may, or you can do more for the world alongside your new silver-eyed mistress. It is your choice."

Dietrich quietly replied, "Merci."

She stared down at Miria's feet, "I am grateful for your offer, but I must go where I will be able to do the greatest good for our silver-eyed peers."

With that Dietrich gave Miria a kiss on each cheek, gave all her friends nearby an appreciative nod or glance, and then turned her back on them to rejoin the empress' party.


	23. Chapter 22: A New Royal

**Chapter 22: A New Royal**

* * *

**Excerpt from "Rabona's New World"**

**By C. Havel**

**Many people today forget just what a shock it was for the islanders of Toulouse to discover that they were not in fact alone in the world. This was itself ironic, for the island had only a thousand years prior been settled by the survivors of Allemanian, Asturian, and Haaraleenese shipwrecks and those blown horribly off-course in craft not meant for the deep sea. Literacy was rarely found amongst the settlers, and only revived centuries later.**

**The Isle of Toulouse was not truly discovered by the rest of the world until a Comnenian war cog, the Karvina, had been blown off course in 220 A.L.E. News was brought back to King Stanislaus III. Stanislaus, then engaged in a massive war with his neighbors, showed no interest. While this seems foolish to us today, sailors in this era lacked a way to easily calculate longitude east or west. Stanislaus' decision to not try to colonize the island with his primitive navy would have been prudent in his era, though he did keep the secret of the island's existence.**

**Years later Comnenian sailors mastered calculating longitude using the stars shortly before the Great War. The island was conveniently remembered when it became obvious an area was needed for secret Awakened research far from the prying eyes of the Grand Alliance, Breton and Haaraleen. The Grand Alliance's spies did not learn of Toulouse until 65 A.L.E. but managed to infiltrate the Organization upon the island shortly thereafter. They played a part in informing the future silver-eyed mutineers of the Organization's true nature.**

**A single Organization agent and three warriors came back to tell of the disaster. The island was quickly forgotten, for a few months later the Bengali Empire collapsed. Those that did know of the island died in 3 A.L.E. when Katarzyna Romanowa seized power and nearly half the navy mutinied. Katarzyna Romanowa learned of the island from an ex-Organization slayer, Audrey of Toulouse. Romanowa, who struggled for years pronouncing Toulousaine, mispronounced Toulouse as Tuluzy, and to this day it is marked as such on many maps.**

**Renewed contact came as yet another shock for the islanders, whose world had been upended by the Organization's overthrow and suppressed power-struggles emerging and turning violent. Shortly after contact, diamonds were discovered around the town of Pieta in the northern province of Alphonse, which were then brought downriver to Rabona. It took mere months for word to get out, and soon the island was utterly deluged with foreign merchants. Worse still, the island had turned into the superpowers' latest proxy war, which destabilized domestic politics with coups, plots, bombings, assassinations, spying and an infamous incident of bribery. By the time Queen Miria took the throne of a now-unified island, xenophobia began to emerge.**

**Despite this there was no going back to what some delusional natives saw as "glorious isolation". The world Toulouse was coming to know was much larger, stranger and often dangerous. Besides the superpowers, the nations of Haaraleen, Breton, and Batticaloa were strong naval powers. There was also the Bengal and the Spice Isles, which were full of innumerable small princely states as well as colonies of Haaraleen, Breton and Batticaloa. Ironically, it would be events in Toulouse that would set off dangerous tensions in the Bengal…**

* * *

Dietrich, wearing a comfortable but tight-fighting sailor's outfit, jumped onto the pier and then into the arms of her much larger boyfriend, Jaroslaw Tusk.

"The war isn't the same without you," Jaroslaw whispered into her ears.

Dietrich smiled, "Why, what's happened since I was gone?"

He pulled out of the hug and turned her around with his arm to see the Cesarzowa and Wenceslaus descending down the gangplank towards them. Like Jaroslaw, both of them were wearing gold-embroidered black military uniforms of extraordinary quality. Walking immediately ahead of them was their top bodyguard in her full duratium plate armor. Aminata Zalika motioned to Jaroslaw.

"Oh just the Grand Alliance suing for peace," Jaroslaw remarked happily.

"Colonel Tusk, I must insist on searching you like always," Aminata stated bluntly.

Jaroslaw wearily held up his arms.

"I'm only doing my job, Colonel," Aminata rebuked him.

"I wasn't complaining," Jaroslaw pointed out.

The Cesarzowa and Wenceslaus were having a quiet conversation a little ways off, while Foreign Minister Bergen had walked right past trailed by several aides and Silver Guards. Dietrich looked beyond the massive flagship, the CMS Gdynia. In the large harbor of Busan the two dozen strong fleet had just laid up and was disgorging soldiers, sailors and cargo pouring forth out and onto the docks. The city bordering the harbor had typical Siyamese-style architecture and gave the impression of being a bit run-down.

Only a few large merchant ships were in harbor, which could have easily held several magnitudes more warships and merchant ships alike. Guarding the harbor's entrance in the distance was a pair of impressive stone forts filled with cannon sited upon two opposing hills. Dietrich found it hard to believe she'd only been gone nine weeks. After all, the journey to Toulouse had required them to cross over the equator, and Toulouse was not in the tropics, although Busan felt like it had a sub-tropical climate.

The Cesarzowa seemed to have finished her conversation with Wenceslaus and walked across the pier to Jaroslaw.

She held out her arms and smiled, "Colonel Tusk, what news?"

Dietrich rather suspected she had overheard Jaroslaw talking.

Jaroslaw managed a grin, "Your Grace, the Grand Alliance has sued for peace."

Katarzyna Romanowa didn't even blink, "On what terms?"

"We don't know yet," Jaroslaw admitted, "and we're not even sure they know what they're willing to agree."

The Cesarzowa considered this for a moment, "How is Bastia doing in my place?"

The two walked together, the Cesarzowa laying an arm over Jaroslaw's shoulders. Dietrich followed closely behind Wenceslaus and Commander Zalika.

Jaroslaw thought about it a moment before replying, "As well as could be expected. She says you were missed at the front."

The empress sighed, "She knew my doctors said I was nowhere close to being fit for front-line command. That was the whole point of the trip abroad. Poniatowski and Bastia were more than competent enough to handle the task of curb-stomping the remainder of their forces. Besides, it gave our navy a chance to show it can still handle big operations and project power. I can only hope that did not go unnoticed by the Bretonese and Haaraleenese."

Jaroslaw politely nodded, "Your Grace, might I ask what you thought of your hosts?"

Dietrich quietly corrected, "Our host was Queen Miria."

Jaroslaw looked uncharacteristically surprised, "Queen Miria?"

Dietrich butted in, "Apparently there was a coup by a rogue general and General Miria Malaga stopped it and reinstated their Parliament. They were so grateful they made her queen. What's the matter Jaroslaw, upset she didn't overthrow the government like you predicted?"

Jaroslaw gave Dietrich a big smile, "Not at all. I was merely interested in knowing what Her Supreme Imperial Majesty thought of her fellow silver-eyed monarch."

The Cesarzowa's eyes lit up, "What I thought of her? Well she's intelligent, apparently a decent commander, had a pleasant demeanor… and she's foolishly decided to entrust her country's future to a bunch of squabbling politicians and the masses."

Wenceslaus could not resist the urge to jump in, "Whether you like it or not you and I will have to deal with plenty of squabbling politicians and the masses. Queen Miria is to be commended for giving up power voluntarily. "

The empress didn't bite, "Yes, yes, and no doubt you'll be insisting not long from now she should be called Queen Saint Miria for her selflessness. We have serious issues with her government, dear, and they're not going away just because she's got a bunch of elected politicians mucking it up underneath her. Every day those ex-Organization researchers and handlers stay on that modest island is one more chance for the Bretonese, Haaraleenese or heaven forbid the Grand Alliance to spring them out."

Wenceslaus shook his head, "The Bretonese and Haaraleenese are known for many things; using Awakened is not one of them. They'd prefer to—"

Katarzyna rounded on him, "Do you think for one moment that they wouldn't consider handing over those men to the Grand Alliance if we ever got into a war with either of them? You have far too much faith in the good nature of mankind."

"And you too little," Wenceslaus bit back.

"No," Katarzyna replied, "I've just seen the incredible amount of foul injustice they're capable of based on nothing but one's skin, religion or ethnicity."

Dietrich politely inquired, "The trip was not unproductive I hope?"

The empress looked wary, "Well we agreed to an initial deal, but that's still contingent on your Queen Miria's Parliament agreeing to it. I could have made it then and there, and she has to ask a bunch of corrupt politicians whether they're interested in it. Mark my words, the Bretonese and Haaraleenese will bribe their legislators to vote against any pact. Miria was pleasant enough until she allowed her 'Premier Ministre' to ask why it was an entire battalion of her men guarding the Organization's archives were found bribed off in our currency."

Bespectacled Foreign Minister Bergen interrupted unexpectedly, "It was regrettable yes, but they weren't sure it was us and not the Grand Alliance that did the bribing. They wouldn't have asked if they were sure."

Katarzyna snapped, "Not sure? Who else do you think they'd blame? Ambassador Tuluzy had to use ten chests of our currency to bribe the soldiers, and I rather doubt they believe the Grand Alliance would have that much of our currency on them. They had enough confidence and gall to bring it to me personally, Bergen. In the future, you are to give our Ambassadors foreign currencies in addition to our own to bribe and pay for information. I do not want a repeat of Ambassador Tuluzy having no choice but to use our currency again."

"Of course," Bergen bowed while tipping his hat. "There is of course the matter of the war, Your Graces."

Bergen handed the Cesarzowa a paper which she looked over carefully.

Wenceslaus asked, "News?"

Katarzyna summarized the note, "Karbala and Kagano have been retaken, the Grand Alliance sieges of the Madeiran cities has ended, and Vice Marshal Suvorov has managed to smash into the baggage train of their main army and free nearly all their slaves. Our armies have just entered into the western edges of the historical Grand Alliance and are all on the offensive."

Wenceslaus suggested, "What better time to make peace than now?"

"We should push further," the Cesarzowa replied. "I would rather take them on their knees rather than have them still standing when we sign the accords. Mark my words, if we don't they'll be convinced they weren't truly defeated and rebuild for the next war."

"They'll rebuild for the next war regardless. This war has gone on long enough," Wenceslaus countered. "We can prepare for the next war; the people are tired of constant conflict. The longer it drags on the greater the chance the Bretonese intervene. You said it yourself; the Bretonese are unhappy with us. Why else would they have dared invite Alexander Comnenus to that state dinner at our own embassy?"

The empress' face was unreadable as she thought it over.

Katarzyna Romanowa's words were fateful, "Bergen, send the Grand Alliance a message; tell them we're ready to talk terms, and tell Poniatowski to cease all offensives."

* * *

Raki stretched out his right arm around the fine shoulders of his wife. Claire leaned into his shoulder as they walked together down the crammed, busy cobblestone streets of southern Rabona. They were wearing their best outfits, with Claire in yet another maternity dress, this one a fine red and white dress. Raki for his part was wearing a fine vest, an undershirt with puffy white sleeves, and fine, long brown boots.

"Oof," Claire gasped, putting a hand to her bulging belly.

"What's the matter?"

Claire smiled as she looked down and caressed her belly, "I think our next bundle of joy just did his first kick."

Raki clutched his wife closer with one arm, "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Only a boy would be kicking around in the womb this early," Claire sighed.

"That's funny because when you had the twins I'm pretty certain it was Teresa who was doing all the kicking."

"Well she's an exception to the rule," Claire countered lightheartedly.

They turned the corner on the street, passed by the inviting scents of several bakeries, and finally arrived before their three story manor. It was wedged into a wall of similar brick homes, each with their own front porch and steps leading down to the street. It was by most people's standards a nice place to live.

"Well here we are," Raki sighed.

Claire inquired, "I thought our place was pretty nice until the Queen started calling a manor ten times the size 'a bit small'."

"Well that's royalty for you," Raki sighed, "they're supposed to be lordly and out of touch with the common people. I hear she's planning to expand that old manor she bought off Ruud van Willems into some absurdly huge five-block long palace."

"Well you may have noticed she's by far the wealthiest on the island," Claire murmured. "I doubt she even cares how much it costs. Her wealth just keeps growing by absurd amounts."

"Speaking of growing, I can't help but admire my handiwork growing by leaps and bounds here," Raki said while affectionately patting her belly. "Just looking at you makes me want to put another one in you."

Claire blushed before Raki grasped her chin and led her lips to his for a passionate kiss. After a few seconds he pulled off and Claire wrapped an arm around his back.

They had put off having more children when they were in Lautrec simply because it had been a hardscrabble life just starting up a farm. Raki had found politics immensely easier to earn a living at, and the salary was substantial enough that they could afford as many kids as they wanted. Claire would have preferred keeping things like their family smaller, but Raki wouldn't hear of it. Her objections had been weak, as she hadn't exactly objected to making love every night since their wedding. Raki in turn saw every pregnancy so far as a gift from the Gods and seemed turned on by seeing her belly swell from his seed. Claire had little doubt he'd put a new child in her almost as soon as she had her next one.

It was not the way she'd pictured her life after defeating the Organization. Claire had pictured a nice house and Raki being there for her, but not the havoc-creating twins or children in general. It had all been a pleasant surprise to find partial awakening allowed reproduction. The only thing Claire minded was the pain and length of deliveries. She'd had the twins without the benefit of midwives, which had been a very trying experience. Thankfully this time Claire knew from the yoki it would only be one baby.

They walked up the steps, Raki unlocked the front door, and they found the house quiet.

Raki commented, "Sounds like the twins are—"

Raki stopped when they heard a smattering of footsteps and running around further upstairs. Claire knew it could only mean Madame Monticello had not put the twins to bed. They both briskly walked upstairs and didn't find them on the second floor.

Claire groaned, "The nanny promised she'd have them in bed."

They rounded a corner and found a matronly nanny sound asleep on the couch and snoring loudly.

"I told you she was useless," Claire told her husband while giving him a knowing look.

"Well we get what we pay for," Raki countered quietly. "You didn't want to pay the price for a really good nanny."

"That's because their wages around the capital are getting ridiculous," Claire grumbled.

"That's just the economy doing well," Raki pointed out.

"Well I could handle it doing less well so we can afford some quality help," she complained. "That other nanny wanted three times as much pay."

"And she might have been worth it," Raki pointed out.

"You might be right," Claire agreed, "come on dear; let's go get the twins under control."

They walked to the back of the house and ascended the stairs to the third floor, where the twins and guests had their bedrooms.

Raki remarked to Claire as they ascended, "You know, the children are gifts from the Gods, dear."

It took a moment and then they were onto the third floor. Claire gasped in horror.

Little Teresa gave them an innocent look as she waved around a paint brush shouting, "Mama, Papa, look at what we did!"

The entire upstairs of the house was splattered with green paint, as was Teresa and her more bashful-looking younger brother, Victor. Green paint cans were opened and strewn all over leaking paint onto the floors, the twins were covered in paint as if they'd been battling each other with paintbrushes, the furniture was covered in paint strokes and splattered paint and even the ceilings showed evidence of the twins' mischief. Raki had a shocked expression on his face.

Claire did her best to make light of the situation, "You were saying something about gifts from the Gods, dear?"

Raki shouted, "Teresa and Victor, what do you think you're doing?"

Teresa replied with an innocent look upon her face, "Painting the house."

"Oh Gods," Claire groaned. "Do I want to see the rest of what you two have done?"

* * *

Miria sat herself down and looked out west onto the Toulouse River and Rabona's new citadel on the opposite bank. The room had an open balcony that glowed sandstone red in the light of the sun. Leaning over the balcony and enjoying the view was Miria's well-dressed husband, Cid. He wore no cape, as had once been the style, but rather a fine blue, long-sleeved with puffy shoulders and trimmed in gold, fine silver-buckle shoes, and fine gold and blue-striped trousers. He certainly looked to Miria like a noble, although he lacked the awe-inspiring outfits a proper prince ought to have.

"Enjoying the view dear?"

Cid's ponytail whipped around as he turned to look at her.

"Just enjoying sunset Your Grace," Cid smiled.

Miria got up and walked behind Cid, leaned her head against his back while wrapping her arms about her equally-tall husband. She could see small boats passing under the central bridges of Rabona, and beyond the giant construction area that was the new western half of the city. She knew that although the citadel appeared finished, as did the other buildings within it, it was in fact an illusion. Inside both the Parliament and the Premier Minister's palace had many unfinished rooms. It had been therefore been tricky to show each place to an empress who undoubtedly lived somewhere far grander.

Cid glanced back over his shoulder at her, "Where is your smile, dear?"

Miria raised her eyebrows, "And what should I be smiling about?"

Cid gestured with one hand to Rabona, "We've come far. We fought and defeated an Inquisition, survived the Angevins' coup, put down another coup, and you even made a very powerful friend."

Miria sighed, "I don't know about friend, dear. Catherine Romanova was perfectly pleasant and diplomatic, but Ruud van Willems may have upset her."

Miria could feel Cid tense up.

"Oh God, what'd he do this time?"

Miria rubbed her head affectionately against Cid's back, "She wanted the Organization prisoners to be handed over to her custody and Ruud said no."

"Good," Cid declared, "I feel better knowing those men won't be walking free."

Miria sighed again as she clutched her husband and watched people cross the bridges below, "I don't think she intended to use them or set them free. She doesn't need them anyways when she can afford to have three hundred silver-eyed bodyguards."

Cid spun around with a look of disbelief upon his face, "It was a hundred."

"That was one third of her force," Miria clarified, "I know because I asked. The other two hundred are back home guarding the rest of their family. We have thirty-one claymores, Cid, two of them toddlers, and the empress has over ten thousand. She doesn't need our friendship, even for the diamonds. I should have told Ruud not to ask about the archives."

Cid scoffed, "We are a sovereign nation. It was within our rights to ask why an entire battalion of our men was found hoarding a cache of their currency and the archives looted. I hear from Ruud that she rushed through all the negotiations and answers, and she only stayed a night. For someone so powerful, Romanova sure seemed to be worrying about her enemies."

Miria breathed deep, "If she weren't winning the war the empress would never have dared come. Still, I hate to say it but, we can't afford her to be too successful. We are her 'friends' only because we cannot afford to be her enemies."

"Well at least we'll be ready for Violetta Angevin if she comes back," Cid stated.

"Thank God for that," Miria agreed.

"Speaking of God, why exactly is Natalie visiting the Teresian Cathedral?"

Miria thought it obvious, "The people expect their Reine and their Princesse to be devout. We might as well act the part even if we don't enjoy it."

Cid looked her over, from her high, frilly collar past her v-cut top and down to her white shoes. He gave her an appreciative smile.

"Do I ever tell you how ravishing you look at sunset? Just the sight of your cleavage makes me overcome with the desire to tear your clothes off and bury my head in your breasts."

Miria answered Cid in a serious tone, "Is that any way to speak to your Queen?"

For a moment the two of them stood standing and looking at each other with serious faces until Cid's face broke out into a grin, Miria's did likewise and they both started laughing.

"I shall wreak my vengeance later tonight," Miria replied with mock seriousness.

"I do hope it will take a long time," Cid grinned. "I have to admit dear, when I first met you, I never pegged you as the sort of claymore who enjoyed who enjoyed dirty talk."

Miria sat down in a fine red and gold chair to watch the sunset more luxuriously. Cid sat down next to her in a sumptuous chair and leaned over to share a kiss with her.

When it ended Miria replied, "It never fails to amaze me how people assume about my personal life. I act appropriately in public so somehow I can't enjoy a little dirty talk in private."

"You surprised me," Cid admitted. "I was told by your friend Claire you had a tough time opening up to other people. I was not expecting that first night."

Miria gave him a sinful smile, "Why, whatever did you expect?

Cid got up and stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, "I was expecting Queen ice-heart, but I got someone completely different. I thought I was in heaven."

Miria wrapped her arms around her husband, "That might have been case before I partially awakened, and even during my years in Pieta. But I used huge amounts of Yoma energy repeatedly during the Organization's overthrow, and that has one significant side effect they don't tell you about in the training manuals."

Cid kissed her on the neck, "Even if you'd told me what kind of desire you'd been holding back I wouldn't have been better prepared. Six flings in one night. God was that amazing. You know, I could go for another night just like that."

"I don't doubt it," Miria replied.

"I kept expecting you were going to wind up with Galk," Cid admitted as he massaged her bosom with a free hand.

Miria admitted, "I considered Galk right up until I learned of certain habits. You were supposed to be the bad boy of you two. Everyone said you were a cocky party boy."

Cid cupped her breasts with both hands through her blue dress, "And Galk?"

Miria stifled a moan, "Galk was said to be a great officer and a hero of Rabona. He was big, handsome, muscular, tall, and supposedly everything a claymore could dream of, or so I thought until I saw him with a woman other than his late wife, Estelle. I decided if I was going to lie with a man, it wouldn't be with a womanizer. You were supposed to be wild, but I'd never heard of you womanizing."

"That's because I've only ever had two girls before you," Cid admitted.

Miria inquired, "Whatever happened to them?"

Cid laid his head down upon her right shoulder, "The first was a young noblewoman who I saw when I was fifteen. Her father found out and I was forced to flee my old village of Malaga and come to Rabona. The second was when I was eighteen and just instated in the Holy Guards. She was a young nun who had fled her convent. She died when Rabona was hit by the plague later that year."

"I'm sorry," Miria sympathized.

"I hadn't even really gotten to know her back then," Cid sighed. "You know, I thought Galk was just defending polygamy to Raki for the sake of opposing him, but I was wrong. He actually wants to have multiple wives."

Miria shook her head, "And who would he marry besides Clarice?"

"Anastasia and Celestyna have been seeing him for months," Cid informed her. "I thought Clarice would start a fight about it, but she's let him just walk all over her."

Miria looked down, "Poor Clarice doesn't have the personality for it. Had he married Helen I can assure you we'd be attending a funeral for someone by now. Helen is willing to fight for a man."

Cid reached down into the top of her low-cut dress and fondled her with a passion, "I'd only be too willing to fight for you. Men could write tributes to your beauty."

Miria let Cid do as he like as she replied, "And what would they write?"

"All hail Reine Miria, owner of the finest breasts in Toulouse," Cid joked.

Miria grinned and reached back and grasped Cid's codpiece, "I expect my husband to think nothing less."

"Natalie's going to be here any minute," Cid objected.

Miria gave him a squeeze, "She can afford to wait upon her Reine. You said we should celebrate surviving everything we've been through, no? I feel in the mood right now."

Miria turned around and opened Cid's codpiece and his swelling manhood fell out. Cid for his part pulled out the lace holding her dress tight upon her back. With scarcely any effort, Cid pulled down her top while Miria pulled off his vest to reveal his toned chest. Clothes began coming off at a prodigious rate, their hands all over each other. Cid bent her over the side of a nearby couch, the position providing them a fine view of the setting sun before them.

Cid pulled up the bottom of her dress and moments later he gave her what she wanted. He warmed her inside as their bodies entwined and her breasts swayed from the force of Cid's thrust. At his next effort they both began to breathe faster and waves of pleasure ran up Miria's back as Cid held her arms out to either side with his hands.

Cid asked with a grunt as he made a third thrust, "How's that?"

"Just get on with it," Miria told him.

Cid in her opinion had a bad habit of talking too much during sex.

Cid wasn't satisfied with his position, so he moved her onto her hands and knees on the couch, kneeled behind her and continued his work. This time he wrapped his arms around her to fondle her chest. With each thrust their breathing and heartbeats quickened, and their moans became louder and louder. Cid was grasping her by the waist when there was a loud series of knocks on the room's metal door.

"She just had to arrive now," Cid groaned quietly.

A butler's voice interrupted, "Your Majesties, your daughter is downstairs and expecting to see you. Shall I send her up?"

"Ignorant oaf," Cid whispered. "At least he didn't hear us."

"I don't see why we should care if he did," Miria remarked. "We are royalty now."

"We will be with her in a few minutes. We're sorting out some of the royal finances," Cid lied as he let Miria's dress bottom fall into place.

The butler's footsteps faded and they both collected their breath. Miria for her part turned around to give Cid a look and then put her legs over his shoulders.

Cid looked surprised, "You want to keep going?"

Miria replied by dragging him down on her with her arms and kissing her husband passionately.

The second round of love-making was even more passionate than the first, as Miria buried Cid's head in her breasts while their bodies entwined. Their panting grew louder, and Miria grasped Cid's shoulders tighter with her legs with each new thrust. He messed up a bit of her hair while her breasts swayed in rhythm to his energetic thrusts. Her womanhood grasped him tighter and tighter until finally Cid could hold back no more.

With a loud moan they climaxed together and then he gathered his breath lying atop her.

"You know if you wanted I'd get the operation and we could have children for real," Cid murmured. "Little Miria-Cids could be running all over."

"I have enough problems with Natalie," Miria countered, "and I'd hate to see your belly ruined by an operation. I prefer you the way you are."

The butler knocked on the door again, "Your Majesties, Her Royal Highness Princesse Natalie insists on seeing you very soon."

"Tell her it'll be a minute," Cid called out.

The two of them frantically picked up pieces of clothing and got dressed again. Cid had only just gotten his codpiece closed up when there was another knock. Miria stuffed her breasts back into the top of her dress and then Cid laced up her dress once more. It was just as Cid buckled his trousers that there came a series of quick knocks on the door.

Natalie interrupted "Mom, dad, can I come in yet?"

Cid unlocked the large metal door and let Natalie in. Natalie was wearing a fine, bejeweled green and white dress, although the claymore she had strapped over one shoulder provided a glaring contrast. She looked at her father and then to Miria with a slightly confused look on her face.

"Your message told me to come here without delay. I thought you said it was important to be on time, Your Majesty," Natalie complained.

"My apologies dear," Miria said while wrapping an arm around her daughter's shoulders, "but your father and I had financial and other business to conclude."

Natalie looked up briefly, "Mom, what happened to your hair?"

"Your father was working on the accounts and I fell asleep on the couch and messed up my hair," Miria lied.

Miria and her husband took their seats facing their sometimes-unmanageable, curly-haired daughter, who glanced back at Miria's ruffled hair and made a realization.

Natalie's face curled into an expression of disgust, "I am not fooled that easily mother!"

Miria tried to play innocent, "Fooled about what?"

Natalie cringed, "Your hair is messed up again! I am not a fifteen-year old girl anymore, mother. You and father were at it, I know it. "

Miria sighed, "So what if we were?"

Natalie cringed, "Ew, ew, ew, why do you have to do disgusting stuff? It grosses me out! Don't you two have time for anything else other than perverted things?"

"We do plenty of other things on behalf of the people, and there's nothing disgusting about expressing my love for your father," Miria lectured. "You should not cringe at the thought of your father and I fulfilling our marital vows and—"

Natalie cringed, "I will when you do it on the furniture minutes before I am about to sit down on it! Why tell me to come immediately if you're going to delay me?"

Natalie kicked the couch for emphasis, being otherwise afraid to touch it.

"I am not going to apologize for sharing my love with your father," Miria said more sternly. "We do not talk about such things outside the family, but you're old enough to understand what a truly loving relationship between a man and wife involves. You should be happy your father and I love each other as much as we do; not all couples do. Soon enough we'll find you a nice silver-eyed husband and you'll be doing the same thing any couple does. You need to be able to discuss these sorts of things if the marriage is to last."

Natalie's eyes widened, "There's a huge difference between Helen telling me about her latest exploits and discussing your sex life, mother!"

"We didn't tell you about it, you brought it up yourself," Cid countered.

Natalie looked embarrassed, "Dad, there isn't a girl in this world that wants to know when her parents are having sex! How am I supposed to ignore mom's hair when I know what it means when it's messed up? You're filling my mind with perverted visions! Is it so hard for you not to embarrass me?"

"You're old enough to handle talking about such things," Miria countered hotly.

"All I hear is that my parents are a pair of secret perverts," Natalie sarcastically mocked, hiding her eyes with a hand.

Miria stood up, "Natalie Miria de Beauharnais Malaga, you do not talk that way to your Reine! You will apologize to your father and me."

Natalie put her hands up in surrender, "Oh alright, I'm sorry. Why am I going to get married anyways?"

Miria sat back down when she felt her point had been driven home.

Cid pointed out, "We have only you as an heir, Natalie. How is our dynasty to last if you don't have children to sustain the Malaga line?"

"I hadn't thought about it," Natalie admitted. "Wait a minute, why couldn't father get an operation and you two have children?"

"I prefer my King Consort as he is," Miria said, wrapping an arm affectionately around her husband's shoulders.

"And I am not going to subject myself to an ex-Organization man's knife," Cid answered.

Natalie raised an eyebrow, "When did father gain that title? I thought you were the monarch, mother!"

"I thought it was insulting to have your father referred to as a mere Prince, so I asked Ruud van Willems to raise him to my King Consort, and he did that this morning. Your father may be a king now, but I rule as Queen Regnant."

Miria and Cid wrapped their arms around each other and Miria pressed the side of her head affectionately against her husband's cheek.

Natalie blushed at the sight of them, "Can you two please stop being affectionate?"

"Your father and I are your Queen and King," Miria stood up. "If and when you become Queen Regnant some day, you will be able to do as you like. Until then you will have to deal with your father and I acting and speaking as we like. There is absolutely nothing wrong with what your father and I decide to do in our spare time; in fact the people expect their Queen and King to have an intimate relationship."

Natalie's face was threatening to turn scarlet, "Can we just please move on and talk about why you summoned me, Your Majesties?"

Miria exchanged a glance with Cid before turning to her daughter, "How would you feel about having a silver-eyed sister?"

* * *

Renée had done a few things in her life that had made her second-guess her rationality or decision-making. Attempting to escape from a psychopathic Abyssal One certainly was one of those moments, and right now she was feeling a nearly equal amount of self-doubt. She had after all accepted Helen's invitation to Galk's bachelor's party. Thankfully it was late at night, so most people would not be able to see what she was wearing in the dark.

Renée turned a corner and came onto the main square of old Rabona. Much of it was under construction due to the fire set during the coup. The Teresian Cathedral's three spires dominated the cobblestone square and the four obelisks within it. At one corner away from the cathedral there was a multi-story tavern which by Rabonese standards blazed with life. A lantern lit up the establishment's name plaque. It read, "La Taverne Scandaleuse".

"Well it looks like Helen's already re-branded," Renée murmured.

The tavern had once been named Le Scandale de Strasbourg, or 'The Scandal of Strasbourg'. Given that it was located nowhere near that particular eastern village, Renée could understand why Helen had renamed the place. She just couldn't agree with the premise of even buying it in the first place from Ruud van Willems.

Renée knocked on the door. A moment later a familiar silver-eyed figure opened it.

Helen gave her a big hug, "Hey, Renée , I was wondering if you were coming!"

When it was done with Helen motioned her inside, "Come in, come in, the party's starting to get really fun. Just think, later tonight everyone's going to be admiring your singing!"

"I don't know why I agreed to this," Renée grumbled.

"Oh come on sour patch, get with the partying and merry-making," Helen chided her with a laugh. "I can't believe we got you to dress up in a naughty maidservant outfit," Helen crowed.

Renée 's outfit was more than a little scandalous. Unlike the outfits worn by most maidservants, she wore an outfit that ended in a short black skirt. The outfit had a plunging neckline, a white apron, a frock on her head that Renée could scarcely endure wearing, and for decency's sake she had put on some black stockings for both her arms and legs. By Rabonese standards, it was almost as bad as dressing as a prostitute.

"You told me I had to or I wouldn't get an invite," Renée snapped. "It's embarrassing enough without you talking about it."

Helen piled on, "Well if it makes you feel better your cleavage look like a deep canyon. Seriously, I'd kill for having an outfit that made me look like that. Tragically I was never born with melons like yours."

Renée hissed, "You're not helping!"

Helen closed the door and turned to her, "What do you expect me to behave like, a prim and proper matron? Last I checked nobody thought of us like women, so I'll be damned if I have to behave like one. We go around wielding swords even most men couldn't wield, so I think it's only appropriate if we can have just as much fun. You need to relax, drink a bunch of beer, and maybe you'll get lucky and get laid."

Renée knew better than to respond and let Helen's rant keep going. Helen walked off after a few seconds to rejoin the party, which was huge. The entire first floor, which could have swallowed up the floor space of several houses, was chock full of long tables and round tables with people drinking merrily around them. The waitresses were wearing revealing outfits and holding huge pitchers of beer as they scrambled around. A slim majority of the patrons to Galk's bachelor's party were men. There were a substantial number of young women, a few of whom were belly dancers entertaining throngs of adoring men whilst dancing atop tables.

More surprising was the sheer number of claymores dressed in everything from plain old leather outfits, cotton Organization-era outfits, skirts and revealing blouses, full-length dresses, and some even in men's trousers with low-cut shirts. Renée felt less embarrassed when she realized what she was wearing was not the most scandalous outfit at the party. She made the realization when she spotted the claymore Valencia in revealing leather and her whipping rod.

"Renée , over here!"

Renée turned to find a table jammed with claymores and saw Yuma and Nina waving her over enthusiastically. She arrived to find the table crammed with empty beer glasses.

"Holy cow," Renée murmured to Yuma, "how much have you been drinking already?"

"You don't want to know," Nina grumbled. "I haven't had to pee so many times in one night since ever."

The table was crammed with Renée 's silver-eyed compatriots, with Anastasia at the opposite end, tall Matilda nearby, then short, curly-haired Camilla, plain Richetta, cute Cantarella, pig-tailed Alexandra, the jovial trio of Rosette, Marianne, and Julia, the cocky Nike, 'silent' Simone, brash Madeleine, Felicity 'the flirt', 'Sensuous' Selene, the legendarily amorous Olympia, and finally the only claymore to rival Helen as a party girl, Celestyna. Off to one side Renée even spotted the pure, long-haired, petite Delphine drinking.

Renée tapped Yuma on the shoulder, "Delphine is drinking?"

Yuma looked over, "Oh no, she's only been drinking water all night."

Helen interrupted, "I told her to drink beer and then she pulls this. Seriously, is it so hard for that girl to get into the party spirit?"

Nina shook her head, "What did you expect? She's saintlier than Galatea!"

Helen scoffed, "Galatea is no saint."

A waitress came by the table and placed a pair of beers before Renée and then left.

Renée grabbed Helen by an arm before she took off again and whispered, "By the way, are you still with Ruud?"

Helen rolled her eyes, "Nah, why, you want to get a piece of that?"

"No," Renée snapped, disgusted. "I was just curious."

Helen downed a beer in one gulp before looking Renée in the eye, "I couldn't stand seeing him just after his wife died. Rumor has it he's got some new wench in his bed already. He's here already; you should be able to see him under the chandeliers in the corner over there."

Renée followed Helen's pointing hand and saw the Premier Minister and his eldest son Hans enjoying their beer and watching a lithe belly dancer who looked rather foreign. The tavern was remarkably well-lit by thousands of candles and some of the new-fangled lanterns Helen had crowed about recently acquiring.

Helen gestured with her arms, "La Taverne scandale is a magnificent place, eh? I had all these millions to blow, and this place only cost 20,000 Francs to buy out. People in this town are going to come flocking, just wait and see."

Renée took a big swig of beer and replied, "The only thing they flock to are Archbishop Galatea's sermons on the nature of good, evil and unforgivable sins."

"Precisely," Helen smiled.

Renée frowned, "Why are you smiling? Galatea's going to condemn this place as a den of iniquity and sin."

Helen clapped her hands as if in giddy anticipation, "Can you think of a better advertisement for my fine establishment?"

Renée swirled her beer, "She's going to try to get everyone and their pet tiger to boycott this place. How do you overcome that?"

"Ah, Renée , how little faith you have in me," Helen patted her on the head. "Those tight, morally righteous men may condemn me by day, but by night so far they've been some of my best-paying customers. Ah, Galk, come on in, the party's getting going!"

Galk, his older brother Gaspar, and several of his army buddies had just come in and were wearing their finest party outfits near the door. Helen pointed to a table that no one was seated at, which Renée guessed had been expressly reserved for the soon-to-be-married bachelor. Galk led his band to the table and were soon enough ordering themselves huge quantities of beer.

Renée was impressed by the silver-eyed turnout, "How many are we missing?"

Yuma looked around, "I think everyone's here but Galatea, the Queen's family and Raki and Claire. That should make twenty-four of us here."

"I thought there were more of us," Renée said while looking around.

Nina interrupted after downing a beer with one gulp, "There were more of us once, schlummy. That was before the wars. What'd we lose, Yuma, nine of us?"

Renée hadn't been keeping track so the number came as a shock.

Yuma paused before nodding, "Yeah, first was Josephine, then Ursula and Alessandra, then Sabine, Katrin and Marie during the battle of Kerouac Gorge, followed by Nadia during the Inquisition and Virginia and Tabitha during the attempted Angevin coup. I nearly forgot it's been so many; it's too easy to lull yourself into thinking we're invulnerable."

Renée held up her mug, "A toast to honor our honored late compatriots!"

The entire table of claymores lifted their beers together and then nearly all of them followed the toast up by downing their beers in one gulp. Helen interrupted the festivities by jumping up onto the table and gesturing for attention.

"Alright, now that our boy's here for his last night as a single man, it's time we kicked off the music", Helen shouted over the din. "Yuma, Nina, Julia and I prepared a little something extra for everyone's entertainment. But first I need something to help me play!"

A waitress handed Helen a huge mug, which Helen downed as if it weren't any problem at all. She finished it off with a loud 'aah' and set it down on the table. Renée rolled her eyes in exasperation with her friend's antics. Yuma, Nina and chubby Julia joined Helen atop the table, all of them in matching leather outfits. A waitress handed Nina and Helen fiddles, while Julia strapped on a pair of drums and Yuma was given a flute.

Helen shouted, "Alright girls, hit it!"

The quartet proved surprisingly talented, with Helen soon blazing into an entertaining and fast-paced solo that had everyone clapping in appreciative rhythm. Soon enough the whole tavern, from first floor to the second-floor balcony overlooking them was full of people dancing on the floor and on tables. Renée was merely watching until Anastasia came over and pulled her off the bench and onto the dance floor.

Renée could scarcely remember how many people she ended up dancing with, but there seemed no end of men interested in being her partner. It was all a bit draining and she was beginning to feel sober again. It made it easy to decide to sit down and down a few beers while recovering from the festivities. Renée sat down at the bar and looked over to find Galk.

"How about a dance after some beer," Galk drunkenly shouted.

"Alright," was all Renée could think to say.

After finishing off a pair of beers the two of them went out onto the dance floor. It was great fun, and there was even something stirring about Galk's touch. Renée tried to shake her head of such thoughts, for Clarice was seated upstairs and watching the festivities. Finally Galk tired of dancing and courteously led Renée to a free seat.

"What a night," Galk drunkenly declared.

Renée nearly jumped when he put his right hand on her legs.

He gave her a mischievous smile, "How about we go upstairs and make it an even better night together?"

Renée was shocked, "Galk, you're getting married tomorrow and your bride is watching us right now!"

The alcohol seemed to allow him to overcome this obstacle.

"I don't care," Galk drunkenly snapped. "Besides, there's always room for more wives!"

Renée was shocked at his drunken nonchalance.

When she stopped his hand from going up into her skirt, Galk instead reached out with his other hand and groped her breasts firmly.

Renée knocked his hand off her, blushing badly from embarrassment as several other claymores were noticeably watching. Most of the guys however seemed not to pay any mind; they were far too busy hitting on the female patrons to notice.

Galk grabbed her by the arm and tried to pull her towards the upstairs.

Galk urged, "Come on, let's have some fun!"

Renée knocked his hands away, "I said no!"

"You'll say yes eventually," Galk murmured, "they always do. Waitress, another beer!"

Renée was in a state of shock over Galk's behavior as he got up and left for another table. In public life he was always a proper man and did his duty. She had never thought that he might be different in private with females.

Galk drunkenly shouted at a bunch of nearby claymores, "How about some topless dancing?"

Renée couldn't quite believe her eyes when Anastasia, Camilla, Alexandra and Valencia jumped up onto a nearby table and obliged him by peeling down their tops. They were soon dancing to hoots of laughter and shouts of drunken approval by both the tavern's male and female patrons. Renée on the other hand felt scandalized.

_Why the hell do the girls do this? This isn't exactly enhancing claymores' reputations here in Rabona yet again. I swear there's something messed up in us compared to women! _

Renée regretted that thought when she spotted a dozen other women in various stages of undress, many of them exposing their breasts for drunken male patrons' coin.

_I take it back; there's something wrong with the whole female species. _

When a man flung a bunch of coins at several women and demanded a good time, Helen for once looked furious.

Helen snapped at the man as she showed him the door, "What the hell kind of establishment do you think this is? It's not a whorehouse; get out!"

"It sure looks one step away from being one," Renée murmured to herself.

Out of the corner of her eye Renée noticed Ruud van Willems heading upstairs towards the third floor with a claymore wrapped about him. She couldn't make out who it was so Renée turned back to the increasingly scandalous party at hand. She noticed that Clarice was looking solemnly down at the festivities below.

_I'm sorry you had to experience this, Clarice. _

A glance back at Galk's nearby table found a waitress loading five beers in front of his older brother Gaspar and a few other MPs. Galk meanwhile was drunkenly enjoying Anastasia's perfectly outrageous dancing. She was shaking back and forth, her large nude breasts swinging erotically in front of Galk, who was seated below.

It was at this awkward moment that the tavern door opened and Princesse Natalie entered tavern. Nobody even stopped to pay the well-dressed claymore a glance, but Natalie in contrast had stopped cold, no doubt shocked by what she was seeing. Renée didn't blame her; after all, there were no fewer than four claymores and six other women dancing topless nearby.

Helen came over utterly unsympathetic, "Hey Natalie, good of you to stop by! Take a seat, grab a beer and enjoy!"

"I'm a Princesse," Natalie snapped at Helen.

"You'll always be Natalie in here, girl," Helen drunkenly shot back.

Natalie gasped at the scandalous behavior all about her, "What is this?"

Helen favored Reine Miria's only girl with a wolfish grin, "It's Galk's bachelor party."

Natalie said nothing but only looked on in shock at Anastasia, who was now seated in Galk's lap and pressing her breasts into his face. Renée looked up to see Clarice turn away and go back to drinking.

Helen chided Natalie, "Oh come on, Natalie; you're a week shy of being eighteen. Don't tell me you've never seen the pair of those on you! I'm glad you came though; you can sing with Renée later, dance, drink some beer and have a great time. What are you waiting for?"

"I… I'm not here for the party," Natalie admitted. "The Queen wants to see Renée ."

Helen groaned, "Man I swear you guys are no fun at all."

Renée shook her head as she intervened, "At least things can't get any more scandalous."

At this moment Raul Tierra and Miata got up on a nearby table looking very drunk.

Raul shouted, "Everyone, listen up!"

Renée turned to watch alongside Helen and Natalie as Raul clutched Miata tightly around the belly while holding a beer in his other hand.

Raul held his beer up, "Miata and I wish you all the best in your new marriage, Galk. It couldn't happen to a better man."

Galk meanwhile was enjoying the attentions of not just Anastasia but also of the equally beautiful claymore Celestyna, both of whom were topless and had their breasts all over him. Renée turned away in disgust at the drunken debauchery.

Raul kept going, "However, we've got news of our own to tell you! As of last night, we are officially man and wife!"

"I don't think I ever would've predicted Miata getting married first," Renée commented.

Clarice came running down the stairs with a look that screamed 'outrage'.

Clarice shouted not at Galk's debauching but at Miata, "YOU DID WHAT?"

"I think the shit's officially hit the pavement," Helen commented.

* * *

"Here, Renée , can you just put this on over that outfit?"

Princesse Natalie handed her a full-length black cloak as they moved together in the dark of night towards the new royal manor on the east banks of the Toulouse River. Renée gladly put it over her shoulders, although she knew it would do nothing to disguise her outfit's scandalous top. This made her feel anxious, as Natalie was taking her to see the Reine.

Natalie and Renée were riding on the back of Natalie's mare, whose name Renée had already forgotten. She was still trying not to think about the ugly confrontation between Miata and her adoptive mother, Clarice.

"Your Royal Highness, I would really feel better about being able to change before—"

Natalie sighed and turned her head to explain, "Renée , my mother and father said to bring you straight to them. I'm sorry but you're going to have to come before them wearing that."

"I see," was all Renée managed.

"At least they probably won't delay seeing us this time," Natalie added in an oddly annoyed tone.

Renée inquired, "Are you having problems with your parents?"

"They're getting weird," Natalie complained. "My mother explained what happened between men and women three years ago."

"So?"

Natalie turned the horse around a corner before sighing, "My mother was all prim and proper until she met my father. Before the marriage at least I didn't have to hear about it from them. Ever since they got married they keep getting more and more affectionate around one another. It's driving me nuts watching mom and dad being affectionate and stuff."

Renée reprimanded her friend, "That's them being in love, Princesse. You should appreciate how much they love each other."

"I'd pay to not know how much they love each other," Natalie grumbled.

Renée decided not to bother continuing this line of conversation. Instead she decided to ask a question.

"Why exactly am I being summoned?"

Natalie lip's twitched in the dark, "I'm not supposed to say."

"Oh come on," Renée quipped, "we both know you're going to blurt it out well before we get there. You might as well get it over with now."

Natalie responded by prodding the mare into a canter.

"Hey!"

Renée found herself slipping, so she reached out and grasped around Natalie's belly and held on tight. The alleys of Rabona resounded with the echoes of the mare's hooves pounding the cobblestone streets. Renée 's cloak stretched out behind them as Natalie picked up the pace.

A few elderly men holding lanterns spotted them and jumped out of the way.

Criticism rained after them, "Watch where the hell you're going with that horse!"

Renée reached out and grabbed the reins, "That's enough, you're going too fast."

Natalie grumbled, "I like going fast."

"We're in Rabona at night, not out on the open road," Renée reprimanded her.

"There's our new home," Natalie pointed to an impressive five-story tall manor.

The architecture of the place was hard to discern in the dark, but the great manor was set a little ways back from the street. A stone wall topped by a wrought iron fashioned in the shape of five-pointed tulips guarded the manor. The manor was lit by dozens of massive, ornate lanterns along its first floor. From what Renée could see the manor was made of red sandstone, with large arched windows and a chiseled façade giving the manor a feeling of power. Renée recognized the manor even in the dark.

"That's Ruud van Willems' old place," Renée noted.

Natalie seized the reins and walked the mare to the left, where a large, arched gateway was apparent. The stone wall opened here, an iron gate guarding the way into the massive home. A pair of huge lanterns decorated with golden lions lit this area, allowing them both to notice the fine blue and gold attire of men Renée presumed were the new Royal Guardsmen. Each wielded a long halberd and wore no armor save for a cuirass and an open-faced helm. The men tapped their halberds against the cobblestone streets upon seeing Natalie's approach.

The front gate opened before them and Natalie walked her mare into the entranceway. She jumped off the mare with ease, which Renée emulated. One Guardsman took the horse by the reins while the other closed the gate. Natalie led forward underneath a two-story high, arched gateway into the manor's central courtyard. A beautiful marble statue of a woman with one breast bared and the other covered dominated the courtyard and its garden.

Renée stared until the Princess tugged her to the right. She followed her now-royal comrade into the manor, which was even more ostentatious inside. A butler gave Renée a disapproving look before motioning them up a grand marble staircase. Natalie climbed quickly, and soon they were at the fifth floor. A pair of Royal Guardsmen tapped their halberds and saluted as Natalie passed by.

They entered a hallway lit by countless fine lanterns, which was the latest in lighting technology. Renée shielded her eyes from their bright light until they adjusted.

"Apparently Ruud van Willems bought a ton of those new lanterns a few months back," Natalie commented while pointing to some. "I hadn't realized what a difference they make in lighting until I walked into one of the rooms here with only a candle chandelier. Lanterns last so much longer and are so much brighter it's no wonder foreigners prefer them to candles."

The hall's tall granite walls were decorated by countless tapestries and fine portraits of Bishops, priests, the holy angels Teresa and Claire, the Great Father Above, priests and nuns, and lords and ladies. Other grander artwork included the founding of the Rabona Orthodox Church, various wars from Rabona's past, and most shockingly a foreign artwork that portrayed a group of ladies in strange robes and painted faces.

Eventually they reached the hallway's end, where no less than a half score of Royal Guardsmen and a manservant stood stiffly at attention.

"Ah, Your Royal Highness," the middle-aged manservant greeted them with a bow, "their Royal Majesties are expecting you presently. You may go in."

He gave Renée a disapproving look that she tried her best to ignore as Princess Natalie opened the door. Renée gasped at the sure magnificence of what was inside. A golden chandelier descended from a very high ceiling adorned with colorful mosaics and gold trim. The chandelier though featured small crystal lamps adorned with countless sparkling diamonds. It blazed with many lights of different colors, the walls themselves dominated by massive landscape artwork that was far too high quality to have been Rabonese in origin. Fine oak dressers, tables, and bookshelves dotted the room.

Sitting in two wooden chairs of almost otherworldly-quality carpentry was Reine Miria and her husband, Roi Cid. Miria's dress was a magnificent combination of blue silk trimmed in gold cloth, all of it adorned with sparkling yellow and white diamonds, gleaming blue sapphires, glimmering green emeralds, and shining red rubies. The dress was trimmed tight on top, hugging Miria's body until her waist, where it thereafter loosely fell to the ground. Miria's dress was cut low in a v-shape, the edges of which were decorated with gold and many sparkling gems. The dress' bottom edge was trimmed by two lines of golden cloth, which were separated by a line of golden sphinxes with wings.

The Reine wore a golden circlet atop her head that featured five gems arranged in a line. Center-most was an oval red ruby the size of a pear. Two oval sapphires of slightly smaller size were fitted to either side, while on the outer edge a pair of yellow oval diamonds of still smaller size was placed. A circlet was not a crown, as Miria's coronation would not be for another year, but it was clear she was someone important based on the circlet alone. Miria's hair was finely shampooed and combed into place.

Glittering white diamond earrings hung loosely from her ears like a string of pearls. Although Miria's dress exposed quite a lot of skin and cleavage, one could be forgiven for not noticing. A silver necklace that dipped towards the cut of her dress covered much of her skin. Upon the necklace red rubies were arranged in the shape of a red tulip, the symbol of Miria's now-royal family, the House of Malaga. Miria's fingers, adorned with a pair of rings on each hand, tapped her chair impatiently.

Natalie curtseyed and spoke formally, "Your Majesties, Brigadier General Renée Rochambeau as you requested."

"Thank you dear," Natalie's father nodded.

Cid's outfit was far less ostentatious than his wife's, with his vest trimmed in black and white vertical stripes, his pants solid white, while Cid's knee-length boots were pitch-black leather. The only hint Cid was royalty was an equal number of rings on his fingers. The royal couple had clasped their closest hands together in a show of love.

Renée bowed, as she didn't know how to curtsey, "Majesties."

Miria's face showed the barest hint of a grin as she looked Renée over, "General, I see you were at Galk's bachelor's party. You couldn't have gotten her dressed in something more appropriate for the occasion, Natalie?"

Natalie, exasperated, snapped, "You said to bring her straight here!"

"So we did," Roi Cid nodded, "I suppose we ought to have given you an option."

Renée felt her face flush with blood in morbid embarrassment.

_Why do I always let Helen get me into trouble? I could have refused the invitation and not shown up here in a naughty maidservant's outfit, but no, I just had let Helen convince me! _

The Reine sighed, "We'll get her properly dressed a little later. I prefer we get this over regardless of risqué clothing. Renée , I've been told by Parliament that they would prefer I have another heir."

Renée knew what was being implied, but she was almost frozen with shock.

Renée blurted out, "There's nothing wrong with Princesse Natalie!"

Natalie smiled at Renée appreciatively.

Reine Miria sighed, "There's nothing wrong with my only girl, but the politicians seem to think my dear daughter is not suited to being a Reine. I would string them all up for their impudence, but seeing as how they raised me to this position, I cannot easily refuse them. They asked me to name a second heir for the public's sake. I could think of no one better-suited for the role of Princesse héritière than you."

Renée 's heartbeat jumped as she took in the magnitude of what Miria was offering.

Renée shook her head, "Me the Crown Princess? Surely Anastasia, Yuma, Alexandra or Delphine are better-suited for the role."

Roi Cid smiled, "My dear friend, I cannot think of anyone better-suited to being first-in-line to our throne than you. You may have noticed Anastasia has bad moral habits, Yuma lacks your commanding presence and regal looks, Alexandra is too sweet-natured for the job, and Delphine would almost certainly never give up her chastity."

Renée blinked, "Give up my chastity?"

Miria explained calmly, "The Parliament is demanding my heirs be married off for the good of the country and my dynasty. You can always refuse being my heir, Renée , but it will not be looked upon kindly in some quarters."

As appreciated as the offer made Renée feel, she felt bad for Natalie, "But Princesse Natalie is of your own blood! If I had children, they would not be of your line."

Miria glanced over to her husband, "Show her the documents dear."

Cid opened a black folder that looked suspiciously like an Organization file-book and handed it over to Renée . We uncovered this after searching through the ransacked Organization archives. It's your Organization file."

Renée found herself reading through it at an astounding pace, as she had never seen her file. Her missions were listed, starting from age twelve, when her days of being trained as the Organization's new "Eye" found her on the borders of Alphonse. That had been a horrible mission, feeling the yoki signatures of dozens of warriors being steadily wiped out. The mission had only been eased from her nightmares when Renée had found out years later that there had in fact been survivors.

"I suggest you look at the last page," Miria added.

Renée turned to a page with a title she never expected to see.

The page's title was "Ascendance de Renée Rochambeau".

Renée murmured, "They kept records of our ancestry?"

"It surprised me as well, but not half as much as other things that have happened recently," the Reine admitted.

The page admittedly did not go far into her bloodline. Renée traced the line of ancestry back first to her parents. They were labeled simply, one being marked "Mère: Marquisa" and the other "Père: Louis Rochambeau". The page joined their bloodlines together, a diverging line dropping down to her name, "Renée Rochambeau". Renée had never really known her parents. What little she remembered of being a non-claymore was having the last name of Rochambeau.

Yet the page kept going with her ancestry, tracing back one generation to her grandparents, "Francois Rochambeau" and "Eleanor" on her father's side. Renée felt hot tears of joy and catharsis at discovering more of her past.

"Merci," was the first thing she could think to say.

Reine Miria pointed a finger at the page, "There's more than your father's line on the page, my dear."

A line extended out from Renée 's mother, Marquisa, to her maternal grandparents, Sebastien de Beauharnais and Madeleine. Yet there was another line of descent from her maternal grandparents. They had had two more children other than Marquisa. One line, evidently that of the youngest, diverged to the right, furthest from Marquisa, who seemed to be the eldest child. This line ended simply with the name "Victoire", who was noted to have died in her youth.

The middle child was "Henri de Beauharnais", who had married a woman named Genevieve. Nearly a half score of children were produced by this union, the eldest being a girl named Victoire.

_No doubt named for her father's late sister. _

Renée 's hand paused in shock as she shifted right to the next eldest child.

Marked simply was the name, "Miria".

The Reine gave Renée a rare smile and clasped her hand, "It seems we are first cousins."


	24. Chapter 23: Victory and Beyond

**Chapter 23: Victory and Beyond**

* * *

**Excerpt from "Katarzyna Romanowa: Behind the Legend"**

**By C. Havel**

**Historians have struggled to this day to properly define just who Katarzyna Romanowa was as a leader and a person. Some Bretonese historians have dubbed her the greatest villain in history, play up her infamous acts, play down her ending of slavery and serfdom, and denigrate her legacy with comparison to Queen Miria of Toulouse. Some historians in the Romanow Empire by contrast go out of their way to show her in a heroic light and brush over her fouler deeds. In truth Katarzyna Romanowa was never truly a saint or a villain, but a consummate politician and a general the like of which this world has rarely seen. Able, intelligent, shrewd, stubbornly idealistic when it came to race yet dangerously pragmatic when it came to creating new ways of war, she has proved remarkably hard for historians to pigeonhole.**

**Born the only child of Baron Bernard Romanow and his Oparan wife Faraja, she had a very complicated upbringing. She suffered from discrimination, although many allege this was played up for use as a justification for later actions. By all accounts she did not get along well with her mother, who pushed her relentlessly and expected nothing less than perfection from young "Kasia" in school. She adored her father, but he was rarely home due to being an officer in the army. From an early age her immense intelligence in many areas was obvious, although she was not yet in a position to use it. Katarzyna proved to have little patience for sewing and womanly pursuits, but much more for learning mathematics and history. Had her father had a son this might have been checked, but as he had no one else he overrode his wife's objections and let his daughter do as she liked.**

**Katarzyna was long known as "Kasia" by her mother. When her father disappeared on a mission, the family fell on hard times and later Faraja died in childbirth. Refusing to 'dishonor' her father's memory, 'Kasia' Romanowa and her stepsister Rima Romanowa fled and later volunteered to become silver-eyed slayers. Young Kasia impressed her trainers with her intelligence, but it did not take her far. Strength and combat skills were what mattered then, not intelligence and quickness of wit. Records of the future empress' life for nearly ten years are sketchy at best. The best information recorded is that she was a Vice Commander of a squad and eventually became the Commander of the squad guarding Prince Alexander Comnenus. Rumors have persisted that Alexander and Katarzyna were also lovers, but that has never been confirmed.**

**Eventually the young Katarzyna left and became an officer in the Allied Army, where she proved to be a better officer than anyone alive. Some Grand Alliance commanders were literally caught with their pants down, whoring, when her army and silver-eyed comrades smashed into their camps. Her armies moved faster than any before, employed radical new tactics, used new weapons, and upended the relatively static, siege-based war of that era with tactical and strategic dynamism. Katarzyna Romanowa is by all accounts the first modern general in world history. She did not fight to gain leverage over her enemies or shirk from fights, but rather strived for the decisive victory and was satisfied with nothing less than total victory.**

**Unsurprisingly in an era in which politics was often by force, she was reluctantly co-opted into Antoni Poniatowski's coup against the incompetent leaders of the Alliance of Nations. She proved more cunning than he expected, for within weeks she had gone from his subordinate and figurehead to the supreme leader and empress of an emerging empire. That she managed to crush the alliance loyalists and defeat the Grand Alliance shortly thereafter tells us something of her astounding military skill. She even proved cautious and fore-sighted when she used a hidden pistol to kill Sergei Djugashvili and retain her crown.**

**Perhaps more than any other historian alive, I have had closer view of what she was like in person. She was my godmother after all…**

* * *

Dietrich checked the tightness of the belt around her waist, which held her black and gold dress close. She was in the imperial palace in Visegrad, the journey back taking less time than she'd expected. The recently renamed Romanow Imperial Army's engineers had evidently been hard at work since leaving, and a partly complete stone road four wagons wide now stretched between Busan on the empire's north coast to Visegrad in the south. By the time they had made it back to Visegrad, the longest war in history had come to a sudden end.

That left only the victory celebrations, which she had no intention of missing. Dietrich was sitting on a stone bench at the end of a long hall full of artwork and lit by chandeliers holding countless ornate oil lamps. A pair of Silver Guards, one of them was Lieutenant Commander James Havel wearing his full armor. Dietrich noticed his helmet was different, as his new duratium helm featured a noseguard and its cheekguards protected more of the face.

"How long are you going to stare at their armor?"

Dietrich turned to find her longtime acquaintance Alevtina Kozlova sitting next to her. Alevtina was not a large slayer, being only a little taller than Dietrich. Unlike Dietrich, Alevtina had decided to dress in a martial fashion for the day's celebrations. She wore brown boots and a typical Romanow-style black with gold military trousers and tunic. Alevtina's appearance always tugged at Dietrich's subconscious emotions, for with her short hair Alevtina strongly resembled a smaller version of the late Deneve but with bangs.

The door abruptly opened and a large silver-eyed man in fine white and gold robes walked out. The Silver Guard promptly saluted as he put on his gloves.

"Duke Wenceslaus," Dietrich addressed him while curtseying, "Her Supreme Imperial Majesty expects your presence at the victory parade stand soon. It would be best if we got moving in time to see the parade's climax."

Wenceslaus breathed slowly for a moment before nodding. He led the way past them trailed by the two Silver Guards, but soon others posted along the edges of the hall fell into formation around him. It seemed almost unnecessary to Dietrich, for Wenceslaus was an elite slayer built like a man who could rip anyone in two and had his massive battleaxe strapped to his back. But then again she hadn't expected Sergei Djugashvili to come as close to killing the Cesarzowa while Wenceslaus was with her as he did, so caution seemed prudent.

Dietrich and Alevtina fell into line behind Wenceslaus, who for once moved with some urgency, although he was still walking. His long strides forced them almost into a jog to keep up. Wenceslaus turned the corner and nearly stopped.

"Duke Wenceslaus, I do hope you're coming to the parade," a female slayer said.

Wenceslaus recovered his pace, and soon Princess Bastia Romanowa was walking alongside him clutching one of her young sons. She may not have come close to Wenceslaus in height, but Dietrich had long noticed that no one ever seemed to regard the youngest, palest Romanow stepsister with anything less than deadly seriousness. Bastia's face, unlike that of the family matriarch, was a perfect mask. She had a regal nose, fine high cheekbones, beautiful, large eyes, full lips, and arched eyebrows, but her expressions were rarely playful. Bastia's little boy's face resembled hers, but his skin was a creamy caramel mix given by both parents.

"I am surprised to not find you there already," Wenceslaus remarked.

There was a pause after Wenceslaus' comment, which gave Dietrich a moment to make some observations. Bastia's hair, like always, was magnificently braided into an ornate hairbun. She wore an ornate black dress trimmed in white and gold, but this featured splits in the fabric to allow her to walk around quicker. The dress had multiple layers and multiple splits, which allowed for some decency even whilst running. Bastia wore a gold and diamond-encrusted tiara of sumptuous quality as well to mark her as the new heir behind the Cesarzowa. Rima had lost her title of Crown Princess to Bastia after her numerous missteps.

Dietrich understood the Cesarzowa's reasoning even though it was known that Bastia was far more ambitious than Rima. Rima Romanowa had quite simply failed to live up to the Cesarzowa's expectations. With the Cesarzowa incapacitated by the assassination attempt for three weeks, the shortcomings of Rima became apparent. Rima was loyal, she had integrity, and she had nearly delivered the empire into the hands of the traitorous Sergei Djugashvili by naming him commander of the Reserve Army. Bastia on the other hand had more than competently run the empire in the Cesarzowa's absence and seen out the successful counteroffensive.

"My boy Marek needed some motherly attention," Bastia finally answered as she walked while gently rocking her sleeping baby boy. "A Romanow heir needs to be well-brought up, don't you agree?"

Wenceslaus gave Bastia a glance that seemed to say he didn't like the tone in which she had asked, nor did it seem pleasant to be reminded that Bastia was Crown Princess and her twin sons Marek and Ferdynand were in the line of succession to the throne. Or at least they would be until Wenceslaus sired children on the Cesarzowa.

Wenceslaus did his best to be polite, "Naturally, my Crown Princess."

They kept walking down the long hallway, which was kept clear of the ordinary traffic of bureaucrats, politicians, soldiers and servants Dietrich expected to see. Instead the entire corridor was populated only by a few dozen Silver Guards in full armor. Bastia paused at one of the doors and knocked. Dietrich knew from experience that the door Bastia had stopped at took people straight to her personal suite.

A dark-skinned female Silver Guard opened the door, and Bastia handed her swaddling-engulfed son over to him. A moment later the door closed and Bastia hurried to walk alongside Wenceslaus, who had not bothered to stop.

"I am glad you are coming to see the parade," Bastia remarked, "the Cesarzowa was looking to make it into a most magnificent spectacle. I think we can all agree she deserves this day. I rest easier at night entrusting the safety of my sons to such a war-proven general."

Wenceslaus glanced over, "And what am I to make of a statement like that?"

Wenceslaus had been insisting that control over the military ought to be turned over to him once he was Cesarz. Dietrich knew him to be idealistic and principled, but she had not counted on him also being rigidly traditional. His reasoning was quite normal for a man; for a male slayer however his insistence on male superiority in a relationship was almost backwards. It had done nothing to win over the appreciation of his fiancée, Katarzyna Romanowa, who was a female military commander no man had ever defeated in battle.

Bastia smiled, "The military has the utmost confidence in the finest general the world's seen in the last five hundred years. Perhaps it would be for the best if you were to not interfere in military matters. No doubt our precious Cesarzowa would greatly appreciate any aid in other areas like foreign affairs. The Bretonese have proved most vexing recently."

"I will be Cesarz, and a Cesarz is expected to do his military duties," Wenceslaus insisted. "Military affairs have been and should be the affairs of male rulers, not their wives."

Bastia glanced down at the floor, a smirk briefly appearing on her face, "Oh I don't doubt your presence will ease worries about our dear Cesarzowa's safety, especially after recent events. You were most instrumental in stopping Sergei Djugashvili."

Bastia tore his argument apart with false praise. Dietrich knew it was Aminata Zalika and the Cesarzowa blowing Sergei's brains out that had stopped the coup. Wenceslaus had proved less useful than expected when taken by surprise. The subject of Bastia's damning praise merely twitched but said nothing in response. Dietrich knew there was nothing he could say.

"It would be for the best if you did not interfere in military affairs," Bastia politely told him. "There are four generals in world history who have gone undefeated in battle. The first was the legendary Sun Tzu, the second was King Heraclius, the third was the founder of the Bengali Empire, Rehman Nirizani, and the fourth is your fiancée. Let her do as she likes in military affairs, and I'm sure our precious Cesarzowa will give you a freer rein elsewhere."

Wenceslaus stopped, "And why should I do that?"

Bastia smiled, "Take a friendly piece of advice, Your Grace. You did not win power, your future wife and her War Minister did. You may want control of the military; however it will never be yours to have because you have not earned it."

Wenceslaus continued their faceoff, "I will speak to her of this matter, later."

Bastia remarked nonchalantly, "If you do, I hope you have a good answer."

Wenceslaus' eyes narrowed, "For what?"

Bastia coolly informed him, "It seems someone has been saying you were seen in the quarters of Rima Romanowa over the course of several months before the overthrow of the High Command; a most vile rumor for people to be spreading, particularly so close to your impending marriage to our Cesarzowa. I can only hope word does not reach Her Supreme Imperial Majesty. It would be so very awkward, not to mention waste our Cesarzowa's precious time, to squelch such a foul lie. It would be better still that word does not reach her."

"Are you threatening me?"

_Do you seriously even have to ask, Wenceslaus? _

"I am merely expressing my concern for your marriage, my good duke," Bastia replied without a flicker of emotion upon her face.

Bastia resumed walking on while Wenceslaus was left looking after her with a sour look upon his face. He scratched his brown-blond beard and without a word followed the path Bastia had taken. It took a full minute of this awkward following before they reached the outdoors, the sunlight nearly blinding after the subdued light of the palace's interior.

Dietrich lost track of the time by the time they arrived at the victory parade stand, a temporary wooden structure three stories high covered in black cloth. The only decorations upon the black cloth were countless double-headed, golden eagles bereft of talons. The 'Imperial Eagle', as it was now referred, was the symbol of the Romanow House. As it turned out, it was not a made-up symbol.

Bernard Romanow had been a Baron, a low-level noble rank in the now dissolved Kingdom of Comnenia. He was related, by way of his great-grandmother, to the nearly extinct royal House of Comnenus, which had ruled for three-quarters of a millennium. The symbol of his noble house, which had shriveled to just him, his wife Faraja, and their daughter Katarzyna before he died, was a double-headed, golden eagle without talons upon a black background. When Katarzyna declared herself a Cesarzowa, this symbol became the new imperial banner.

The parade stand was at the bottom of the plateau and looked over a massive, well-maintained central boulevard lined with trees and shops and also the Visegrad River just beyond. Dietrich followed Wenceslaus up the wooden stairs and into the stand. There were two levels to the stand, with the Cesarzowa standing on the lower level closer to the street. Bastia was already standing next to the family matriarch, as was Bastia's dark-skinned husband, Leon. Rima sat furthest to the left. Wenceslaus for his part took his seat next to Leon, who was dressed in a military uniform.

The Cesarzowa for her part was dressed in an ornate black and gold military uniform and wore a black fur hat with a Romanow eagle emblazoned on its front.

A trumpet startled Dietrich out of her observations, and she turned to see a huge formation of Imperial Guard cavalrymen trotting by. The men were being cheered loudly by huge crowds lining either side of the boulevard. Dietrich followed Alevtina into the second row, where a number of high-ranking government ministers including Foreign Minister Bergen and new Grand Chancellor Antoni Poniatowski were watching.

Dietrich remarked to Alevtina as they sat down on the second row bench, "Did all of Visegrad turn out for the celebrations?"

Alevtina smiled, "It's a historic day, why wouldn't they?"

The cavalrymen stood up in their stirrups as they passed in front of the stand and turned to salute their Cesarzowa. Dietrich counted ten columns of cavalrymen, their 50-row deep formation taking quite a while to pass. Next up was a huge formation of pikemen clad in the standard black and gold military uniforms and outfits of the Romanow Imperial Army. One of their officers carried a large imperial flag out front. This formation was soon followed by an equally large group of musketeers.

Dietrich had lost count of how many formations had passed by when a huge roar and an enormous horn blast jolted her from her daydreams. Two huge male Dragonkin were being led forward by dozens of silver-eyed slayers with duratium-forged chains, their footsteps shaking the ground and the parade stand slightly. Their legs were chained together, as were their lethal hands. The Dragonkin appeared to be fairly old, but their size was many times that of Rima's "domesticated" Dragonkin children.

"Gods," Alevtina gasped, "I heard they captured Smokowcy, but those males are huge. For them to be that big they have to be hundreds of years old."

"They may be huge, but they're also old," Dietrich commented. "They were too slow to escape capture by our armies and too old to desire fighting to the death."

"Well at the very least we'll be able to avoid our Queen Smok inbreeding with her brothers," Alevtina said a little too loudly.

Straight ahead of them and one row down, long-haired Rima Romanowa turned around awkwardly in her dress and gave Alevtina a look that suggested the subject best be dropped.

"Apologies," Alevtina gulped.

Rima did not say a word but turned around deliberately to resume watching. The Smokowcy spared those on the parade stand several glances, but looked to be quite demoralized. It took quite a bit of time for them to pass, and the crowds were downright hostile to the massive beasts. The soldiers guarding the street edge had to hold back the crowds, although Dietrich knew that even chained huge mobs were not really a threat to Smokowcy. Their size and strength had allowed them to butcher conventional armies until recently. A mob with pitchforks could not even hope to penetrate their hide.

Dietrich was so distracted by the Smokowcy and their sharp features that it took Alevtina smacking her on the shoulder to shift her attention.

"Take a look at that," Alevtina shouted, pointing to the left.

Approaching now were hundreds of men holding flags. A pair of crossed silver-white swords on a red square in the top left corner marked them as the flags of Grand Alliance military units. The units' unique symbol dominated the rest of the flags, each of these flags being held at waist level rather than raised. Each of the flags was held by an army soldier, and as these hundreds of men came closer, Dietrich noticed their uniforms were festooned with medals.

"Those are the most honored officers and enlisted men in the army," Alevtina whispered.

They were preceded by Alexei Suvorov, who Dietrich remembered as being a Vice Marshal. Just behind Suvorov and flanked by two guards were two foreign prisoners.

Dietrich was confused by the prisoners' fine dress, "Who are those men?"

Alevtina smirked, "Since you were gone perhaps it's best if I explain. Two days before the armistice set in Vice Marshal Suvorov executed a nighttime pincer attack against the main enemy army. He freed nearly all their remaining slaves and captured two of the Grand Alliance's three emperors, Szechwan Emperor Zhou Ling, and Osakan Emperor Funihashi Junichiro. He's been promoted to Marshal and given the most prestigious medal in the army, the Imperial Star."

Suvorov, riding a white stallion, saluted before the stand and then dismounted. He walked up into the stand and was allowed to stand next to Wenceslaus. The two emperors were led before the stand and forced to turn towards each other standing twenty meters apart. The young male emperors looked miserable as they stood to either side of the stand and watched. The medal-festooned soldiers came forward as a huge cheer rang out from the crowds.

The first two men threw their flags down onto the cobblestones at the foot of the Cesarzowa's stand. This was followed by another pair, and then another and another. The emperors were forced to watch in humiliation as the flags piled up before the stand. When it was finished the Cesarzowa surprised Dietrich by walking down to shake hands and congratulate the soldiers for their dedicated service.

Dietrich stayed close behind her tall empress until finally the Cesarzowa approached one of the young rival emperors while accompanied by Wenceslaus. He was not an unhandsome man, even though his colorful robes looked quite strange to Dietrich's eyes. The young emperor flinched backwards at the sight of Wenceslaus.

_So that's the boy Wenceslaus was assigned to kill all those years back. _

The Cesarzowa offered her imperial prisoner a cold smile, "How good of you to join us, Cesarz Junichiro. No doubt you find this all distasteful, Heika, but you'll be ransomed back by your country soon enough. When you go back I have a message for you to take back with you."

Junichiro replied in heavily accented Comnenian, "Yes, Your Grace?"

Dietrich was close enough to hear Katarzyna Romanowa speak softly into Junichiro's right ear, "The next time your Grand Alliance decides to fight me, there won't be a Grand Alliance left by the time I'm done with you."

Cesarzowa Katarzyna moved on back towards the palace and moments later the fireworks display began to the crowd's roaring approval.

* * *

The stench of the jail was horrible, smelling of grime, feces, piss, rotting rats and mildew. Alexander had thought he'd been through hell seeing the ruin of his family, but Toulousaine jail was proving almost as testing. The stone jail he was interred in was located along a canal in the heart of northern Rabona. At first he thought things couldn't possibly be any worse until he got a look at the basement cells during a lunch break, which were even fouler than the cell he was occupying on the floor below.

It was night out, so his only light was a dim pair of candles just visible through the bars of his cell door. The only comfort in the room was a firm bed in one corner. He'd tried requesting paper, quills and ink to distract himself with drawing, but that went nowhere with the guards. They didn't seem to give a damn about him, royal or not.

Alexander glanced at his dirty clothes and sighed.

A clank outside his cell drew Alexander's attention. A few moments later he heard the guards talking in excited tones.

"Why's he here?"

"I don't bloody know, but he says he wants to see the troublemaker," another guard answered. "Stupid lout caused enough problems if you ask me."

"The Romanows won the big war I hear," a third guard commented.

"All the more reason to keep people who piss them off in here," another guard reasoned. "This bastard the Roi wants to see crashed that big party with their empress there."

A gruff-voiced guard added his opinion, "I saw that new ship they gave us testing out its cannon last week; shot apart a brick house in seconds with a full broadside of just fourteen of them. One of my friends who saw their fleet says it had enough of cannon to level the whole city. The scariest thing is that was just a fraction of their fleet."

The sound of a door opening cut the comments short. Alexander scrambled over to the cell door and looked through the bars.

"Get the would-be Roi out of his cell," a new voice ordered in gruff tones.

Alexander found his cell door being unlocked, and the lightly armored guards grabbed him by the arms and hustled him down the narrow jail hallway. Alexander didn't try to resist, as he was still sporting sores under his modest brown garb from the guards kicking him for his defiance of their prior orders.

He found himself dragged up several flights of stairs until he was led into what looked like the warden's room. It was big, its ceiling being the supports and underside of the building's thick roof. Two fires lit and warmed the room at either end, each of them housed in enormous stone fireplaces. The room had thick stone walls, with narrow windows looking out on the dark skyline of Rabona.

The warden's room had a large, plain bed, two large red armchairs facing the fire furthest from him, a few dressers, a desk, and several carpets to decorate the wooden floor. Alexander glanced back to see the guards close the door on him.

Alexander glanced around, "Anyone there?"

"Monsieur Comnenus, please have a seat," a man's voice called out.

Alexander was jolted and suddenly noticed an arm just visible on the armchair. He approached the armchair from the side and found a well-dressed, ponytailed man who had the look of mature youth. He was still young, but a few wrinkles had begun to show on his face. The man had an attractive face and his hair by Comnenian standards was almost effeminate, with long bangs in front and a ponytail that would have been ridiculed in Visegrad. Alexander knew better than to say any of this.

"Who are you?"

"That's no way to speak to a king," the man smirked.

Alexander recognized the man after a moment as the new Toulousaine queen's husband.

"I also go by that title," Alexander shot back as he leaned forward on the other armchair.

"And it is now meaningless following the overthrow of your family," his peer replied coolly. "I am Roi Cid, husband of Reine Miria of Toulouse. I got you out of that sorry cell because I hear you have some expertise we could use."

"I am not someone who provides just anyone with what they want," Alexander answered, defiant. "I am the rightful King of Comnenia. I have as much right to be called by my honorific of 'Your Royal Majesty' as you do; more even, given how long my family has reigned."

"Yet here you are, exiled by a silver-eyed female and a new dynasty that had as much right to its position as your family did back when it ruled a mere duchy," Cid pointed out.

"I deserve—"

Cid cut him off, "You would be well-advised not to remind everyone here of who your father and family were. Some people might take a different reaction than you expect."

Alexander scoffed, "Like what?"

Cid stood up to stir the nearby fire, "Your family endorsed the slaughter of this island's inhabitants for the last one hundred years. The Organization, under your family and your father's command, unleashed Yoma upon our people just for research. Then, when villages refused to pay claymores to kill the monsters their masters had unleashed, they directed Yoma and even Awakened to come in and kill every last soul, even the babies. The people might be very agitated if they knew you were the son of the man who had backed the Organization."

Alexander was too shocked for words after the rant.

Roi Cid sat back down and sighed, "If you'd like to spend your nights somewhere more comfortable, I could use your help treating a claymore's mental illness."

"I don't help silver-eyed monsters," Alexander snapped.

The Roi fixed him with an unnervingly fierce stare.

Cid objected, "This not the mainland; here our warriors saved us from Yoma and Awakened, and when they learned the truth of what the Organization was they overthrew it."

"I don't treat silver-eyed warriors," Alexander repeated.

Roi Cid scoffed, "What has my wife ever done to you?"

Alexander laughed, "She threw me into this jail!"

The king sat back down and threw up his hands, "After you crashed a state dinner being held for the most powerful monarch in the world. Tell me, Monsieur Comnenus, when the Bretonese ambassador came to you with an offer to attend, did he mention anything about insulting our silver-eyed guest?"

"I don't have to answer that," Alexander declared.

"Of course you don't," Cid surprised him, "but believe me when I say it made for a very uncomfortable next morning. I had to placate their Foreign Minister while they had several thousand ship-borne cannon just downstream. There's nothing quite like trying to soothe someone with enough firepower to wipe you out at their leisure. You call yourself a king, yet you never take responsibility for anything but yourself. That's the difference between us, Alexander. A true royal would have realized that he was endangering his host country and its reputation before he insulted his ex-fiancée."

Alexander blinked, "How did you know that?"

Roi Cid offered him a grudging smile, "You hear all sorts of things when talking to ambassadors. I understand your thirst for vengeance, but I will have no more of your grudges continuing. You owe your host country that much for all your family's done to us at least."

"If I help you I want my freedom," Alexander pointedly declared.

"And I'd like running water in my manor already," Cid countered. "If we release you so soon I'll get an angry letter from Ambassador Tuluzy demanding to know why we've released a man still claiming the empress usurped his throne. If we don't change course we'll get several 80-gun reminders anchored at the mouth of the Toulouse River. Without a shot being fired we'll be forced to change track or else they'll shut down our diamond trade. Once that's happened the Bretonese and Haaraleenese will rush to our sides and assure us they'll never let it happen again as long as they can station their warships here. Pretty soon our neutrality will be gone and the next time a war breaks out between any of them this island will turn into a warzone. By the end of it we'll be either a protectorate or a colony."

Alexander complimented the Toulousain king, "You think things through."

"I don't need your compliments, I need your aid in making Averium," Roi Cid informed him. "I'm told you know to create the medicine. If you cooperate you'll be put under a far more comfortable house arrest and given whatever you want."

Alexander gave in after seeing no better option, "Fine, what's the malady?"

"There's a claymore suffering from the sleeping sickness," the king replied.

"You don't need Averium for a bit of sleeping sickness," Alexander pointed out.

"It's severe," the king answered obtusely.

"Well, it will take me at least a day to make a liter of un-diluted Averium," Alexander nodded. "It'll be expensive and I may have to substitute ingredients that are less effective if no merchants are selling them here."

"Expense at least won't be an issue," the king assured him.

* * *

Renée expected Archbishop Galatea's sermon at noon services in the Teresian Cathedral to mention Helen's sleazy bachelor's party for Galk, and a few minutes into the Holy Day noon service Galatea jumped straight into the matter with fervor.

"Three nights ago, in the very heart of our holy city, a party took place to 'celebrate' the last night of a man being a bachelor," Galatea declared while pacing before an altar.

The white robed, silver-eyed female priest stood out, as her peers were all short-haired men of young age, several of them already having beards. Galatea was further distinguished by her height, her pointy red and gold hat, and the fine gold embroidery upon her robes. She was standing before a huge crowd seated row after row of plain wooden pews.

Galatea pointed towards the heavens, "Nowhere is it written in the books of Teresa or Claire that a man should celebrate his last night before marital bliss. This foul tradition could only have come from overseas."

"Well that didn't take long," Miria's voice commented.

Renée looked over to the left to see the Reine and Roi seated next to one another. Renée had accepted the Reine's offer, but as the Parliament wasn't meeting for a month to confirm this it left her in the awkward position of being on the cusp of royalty. Renée looked around the royal box and noticed Natalie clearly not paying attention and fiddling with her fingers in boredom behind her parents.

The Royal Box was on one of several balconies overlooking the central hall's pews in the Teresian Cathedral. They were some three stories up, seated in a modest-sized stone balcony with well-crafted wooden seats. On the opposite side of the hall, another balcony seated Ruud van Willems and his four children. One balcony back was Ruud's near-reactionary rival, Gaspar Galacon, the elder brother of Francois "Galk" Galacon.

Renée , like the rest of her new family, was wearing her Holy Day best, while the Reine wearing a much less revealing dress for once. Their clothing was an assortment of hues, from royal blue, regal gold, pure white, verdant green, dark red and even a little black. Miria and Cid had insisted that they had to attend religious services now to prove to their people they cared about their beliefs. Renée noticed that religion hadn't seemed to rub off on them much despite this change in personal habits. Miria was rarely referencing the divine in her letters or orders.

Three stories below Galatea's rant was picking up fervor as she raised a hand in damnation of Galk's bachelor party, "This wasn't a party to celebrate the fact that two souls were about to join one another in perpetual union here and in heaven. It was a party to celebrate debauching and sin, to spit in the face of our Great Father Above, and above all to disrespect our holiest of traditions with the most wanton, foul behavior this city has ever seen."

The crowd in the pews gasped while some other called for justice.

"Just what I needed, an angry mob of true believers," the Reine groaned.

"Your Majesty isn't supposed to be talking during the service," Natalie pointed out.

"She can barely see us up here," Cid pointed out, "so I don't think we should worry."

"That wasn't the point, father," Natalie hissed.

Galatea meanwhile seemed to have moved on with her damnation.

The Archbishop paced before her parishioners and held out her arms in a gesture of exasperation, "Can any of you imagine this happening in the city of the faithful before the merchants took over? The church, it is true, was overwhelmed by zealots who took it down the path of violence it should never have tread. But that is no excuse for those in power to forget all morals and faith."

"Children of the Great Father, we all know that when the church governed Rabona, the world may have been darker but the light of the church was truer," Galatea declared. "Now we face an uncertain future with many foreign temptations leading the faithful and our leaders astray. It is time for the devout to demand that the Rabona Orthodox Church once again be made the official religion of the land."

Reine Miria gave her husband a knowing look.

"Well you've got to hand it to her," Cid grinned, "for someone who was an admitted atheist five years ago, her faith has grown in leaps and bounds."

The parishioners strongly clapped in approval of their Archbishop's declaration.

"Last month, I saw merchants passing over a baby who had been abandoned in the street by his mother," Galatea hissed while clenching one fist. "Naturally the church accepted the boy into its care. Since then we have been inundated by desperate mothers who can't care for their boys or whose fathers would rather not acknowledge them. My children, this cannot and should not be the Rabona we grow familiar with and accept. Who here wants to live in a country so callous they abandon the children of the poor to die? In the end we are all equal in the eyes of the Almighty Sky Father, and those who refuse to abandon their short-sighted love of profit and money will find themselves friendless the day they pass away and the Fallen Angel comes to take them down to his horrible abode."

Galatea spread her arms out as she made her passionate plea, "Ever since the rule of the city has become secularized, many have taken to worshipping and idolizing the golden idols of money and material goods. For too long this country has lost its way, abandoning the tenets that served our ancestors so well. If there is one thing you should leave here understanding, it is that this country will be lost if the Rabona Orthodox Church is not placed once more into the moral heart of the government."

Roi Cid commented while glancing across the cathedral, "Is it just me or does Ruud van Willems look really angry?"

Even in the dim light, with the church only illuminated by enormous stained-glass windows far above them, it was possible for Renée to make out Ruud van Willems' face. He was scowling at Galatea, who had basically just condemned his entire political faction, which had a great love of merchants and businessmen. The sermon had ended, and now a bespectacled and vaguely familiar-looking old man was playing the church's massive organ far above the altar. The organ's notes rose and fell in beautiful arcs, the organ both loud and hauntingly beautiful. It was the finest musical instrument in Renée 's opinion.

"Things are about to get interesting around here," Renée commented.

Reine Miria sighed, "My dear, since when haven't they been interesting? Just be glad it's not the kind of 'interesting' that nearly got me killed. In the past four years we've overthrown the Organization, protected caravans for cash, gone to Pieta to live, rescued Rabona, won the war with the Angevins, defeated a religious Inquisition, stopped an Angevin coup after our countries were united, I stopped another coup by reactionaries, and my family has been elevated to the royal family of the land. I sincerely doubt anything Galatea does will ever be as interesting as that, particularly since she knows the church is never getting its old military power back."

Miria winced and massaged her head with a hand, "Damn."

Renée looked on in concern, "What's wrong, Your Majesty?"

"My new medicine is giving me a few headaches, that's all," the Reine assured.

Renée frowned, "Why would you need medicine, Your Majesty?"

"I've been suffering from bouts of sleeping sickness," Miria admitted.

"But that's such a minor thing," Renée pointed out.

Cid exchanged a glance with Natalie before replying, "Trust me Renée , it's better for all of us if my wife gets her treatment."

_Is there something about Miria's condition they're not telling me? _

* * *

James' dream contained no images, only the sounds of voices.

"Lillian, you have to plead for your life," a man's voice begged.

Lillian's voice was defiant, "Beg for my life from the slayer who forsook her oaths and crowned herself? You think my life is so important to me that I would cast aside my ideals just so your Cesarzowa can rule with a clearer conscience?"

"Lillian please," his voice begged.

"You made your choice, James, and you're never getting it back," Lillian coldly replied. "That's always been your problem, James. You think you can always have both choices at once. That somehow you would never be forced to choose between me and Katarzyna. Let me spell it out for you: your choice was either letting me kill Katarzyna or sending me to my execution. You've made that choice, and now you must live with it for the rest of your days."

James woke up inside a covered carriage. He was still wearing his Silver Guardsman armor, as he'd been on nearly continuous duty for the last forty-eight hours. This was due almost entirely to the victory day parade and the celebrations that had come afterwards. Upon finishing his shift he'd gotten into a carriage and ordered it to take him home. The plush blue padding of the carriage interior, along with the gentle rocking of the carriage as it moved over the cobblestones of Visegrad's grand boulevards had lulled him to sleep.

Suddenly the carriage slowed and then came to a stop a full block from his small manor.

James banged on the wooden panel towards the front of the carriage, "What's the matter? My home is a full block away!"

The middle-aged driver opened the panel by sliding it over, "Not my fault, Master Havel. There's a huge cordon of Imperial Guardsmen and your fellow Silver Guards around the next block. They won't let me go any further."

James rummaged for his wallet, "How much do I owe you?"

"Half a Krone," the narrow-nosed man replied.

James pulled out a Five-Krone coin and handed it to him, "Just give me back four and we're even."

"Oh thank you, Master Havel, thank you, your generosity will be remembered," the man gushed.

"No problems," James sleepily smiled.

He opened the door to the carriage and deftly stepped down the steps and onto the street. He looked to the left to find row after row of Imperial Guardsmen in multiple lines on the street, a throng of curious locals watching. Half a block beyond the first security lines a number of black horses were gathered, their reins attached to the wrought iron fence protecting the six-story brick and stone manors facing the street.

The Imperial Guardsmen saw him coming and saluted.

James kept walking and noticed several Silver Guards of the roof of the manors. They were all equipped with two pistols besides their armor, duratium-forged melee weapon of choice, and back-up knives. A number of Imperial Guardsmen wielding an assortment of muskets and melee weapons backed them up.

_Now that's odd. Why are Silver Guards here? _

He walked past the horses and found his front doorway guarded by no fewer than a dozen Silver Guards in full armor.

He walked up, "What's going on here?"

James' old friend Lewis walked up, "Sorry about interrupting your schedule, Lieutenant Commander, but we were ordered here."

"By who?"

A half minute later James, fuming, walked into his third-story bedroom. He found the dark-skinned Commander of the Silver Guard, Aminata Zalika, rummaging through his trunk. The braid-wearing warrior found some papers of interest and then flung them into the room's fireplace. James stamped his foot to gather Aminata's attention.

James snapped, "What do you think you're doing?"

Aminata didn't even sound apologetic, "I was assigned to getting rid of those sluts you called servants and all un-approved contact papers."

James' indignation swelled, "What business is it of yours to abuse your authority and interfere in my private life?"

Aminata walked over to him, and although she was half a head shorter than him, there was something vaguely intimidating about his superior. James stood his ground however and crossed his arms.

"I am not abusing any of my authority when I am under orders from Her Supreme Imperial Majesty," Aminata explained, showing him her orders.

"Why is the Cesarzowa doing this to me?"

Aminata smirked, "Why? How many liaisons have you had with different women since coming to this city? Did it ever occur to you some of them might have been spies or looking to blackmail you somehow? Did you ever have the intelligence services look into their backgrounds or did you just mess around with whomever you pleased?"

"Well," James mumbled, "I was—"

Aminata cut him off, "Her Grace is not willing to accept her safety being endangered by your impromptu liaisons with women you do not know. If you're going to spend your nights with a woman, she must be screened by our intelligence services first."

James complained, "That is ridiculous!"

Aminata turned on him and fixed him with a fierce stare, "I would think after an assassination attempt on the Cesarzowa the need for this would be obvious."

Aminata held up a rather embarrassing Geisha agency contact card, "Geishas, James, really? We screened this particular group and found that at least one of the geishas in it had been approached by agents of the Grand Alliance. I don't think anyone who cares as much about the Cesarzowa's security as you do will object if I burn it."

Aminata flung the papers with a superb flick straight into the fire.

"How am I supposed to enjoy myself if you're doing this to me?"

Aminata seemed amused, "It's not just you but the whole Silver Guard, including the females as well. If a Silver Guard wants such services, A few geisha agencies and several brothels will be screened. You can keep up your disgusting habits there. Also, your two female servants from the Temple of Amorien were dismissed."

James yelled, "Why? They could have been screened!"

Aminata sighed for once, "Don't blame me, Havel. It was your Sovereign's express wish that they be dismissed and replaced with more acceptable servants we have screened."

"She promised me she wouldn't interfere with my social life," James hissed.

"Well you can take it up with her now if you'd like," Aminata commented. "She's upstairs with her new goddaughter."

James was confused, "What in the world is the Cesarzowa doing in my home with her new goddaughter?"

Aminata played coy, "You'll have to ask her."

James left the room with Aminata burning still more of his papers. His manor's decorations were still relatively sparse, with only a few fine Maghrebi carpets and Comnenian tapestries to decorate the thick stone walls of the manor. Oil lamps lit the interior brightly, which when climbing the stairs was a blessing, as he could always see the steps. Finally he arrived on the fifth floor and found a pair of Silver Guards standing guard at the beautifully finished and stained maple door.

"Your weapons you'll have to leave here," Katja Tymoshenko told him.

James looked his former superior in the eye, "Why, am I not trusted around Her Supreme Imperial Majesty while armed like the rest of you?"

"You'll scare the little girl wearing them," Katja explained.

James reluctantly ditched his two pistols, claymore sword and knives, putting them on a nearby bench before walking back.

He was about to enter when he turned to Katja, "How are you doing, by the way? I heard you were not doing so well awhile back."

"Yes, well, that's over with," Katja said in a tone that suggested it was not, "thanks to my husband, Lewis. I don't know what I would do without him."

_Most likely marry another male slayer and boss him around. _

James nodded, opened the door by its lion's head doorknob, and entered into the massive but almost unfurnished fifth floor master suite. The door closed behind him with a solid thud and James exited the narrow hall finally and came into the huge main room of the master suite. It had huge arched windows on either side, each full of painted glass, which looked just as good but was far less expensive to make and clean than stained glass. Sunlight was pouring into the room from one side onto the fine Redwood floors. Just out of the sunlight and lying comfortably atop a black couch was a very familiar female. The Cesarzowa was wearing a black and gold-embroidered dress, blue sapphire-adorned hat, and her long, wavy blond hair and the facial scar branded upon her left cheek made brown-skinned Katarzyna Romanowa instantly recognizable.

James walked forward, "Cesarzowa, I understand your desire for security, but why dismiss my servants before screening them?"

"James, come, sit beside me," Katarzyna said, emphasizing this by patting the room's only chair.

It was plush and red and in James' eyes uncomfortably close to his ex. He hesitated and then stopped entirely.

"James," Katarzyna said a little tartly, "get over here."

"I must respectfully refuse Your Supreme Imperial Majesty," James countered. "You are getting married to Duke Wenceslaus in a few months' time. It is not my—"

"That wasn't a request James," Katarzyna said icily.

He reluctantly walked forward and sat down beside her. Katarzyna wrapped an arm around him and gave him a light kiss on the cheek.

"Kasia, please," James pleaded.

"You wouldn't deny your Cesarzowa a few guilty pleasures," she remarked before lightly kissing him on the lips.

"You promised me you wouldn't interfere," James complained. "You're supposed to not show any interest in me, not give Duke Wenceslaus suspicions. Why did you dismiss my servants, Cesarzowa?"

"They were tawdry and you'll be adopting a new little girl soon," Katarzyna remarked nonchalantly while dropping a bombshell on him.

James blurted out, "What? Why?"

"Because it's the decent thing to do," Katarzyna reasoned.

"You want me to just drop everything and become a family man?"

Katarzyna sighed, looking amused, "I didn't say you were becoming a family man."

James was confused.

The Cesarzowa smiled, "You already are a family man, James."

James' eyes bulged, "Are you saying?"

"You like coming to the wrong conclusions," Katarzyna sighed, drawing James' hand away from her belly. "I am not fifteen anymore, James. I am not swept off my feet every time you recite a poem about the beauty of my bosom and hair. If you're expecting me to get pregnant off you months before marrying Wencelaus and endangering the realm, you are deluding yourself, James. A general and a Cesarzowa does not have the luxury of marrying those she likes, even if her future husband promises to be a stuck-up prig who wants her to give up everything she's earned merely because he is a man."

James pulled back from her touch, "Then why am I adopting a little girl? If you have something to say about my morals then say it."

Katarzyna explained, "A little girl cannot have a bunch of temple sluts posing as servants around the house. I also do not want to hear about you bringing home prostitutes. I know you can't keep it in your pants, but I will give you a beating myself if you expose her to such things."

James was taken aback by his ex' vehemence, "Why do I have to adopt this girl?"

The Cesarzowa scoffed, "Did I say you were 'adopting' her?"

It was his turn to be confused once more.

"But you said—"

Katarzyna explained, "We found this little silver-eyed girl recently. Well, Rima did. Her female caretaker had been killed in broad daylight, and we could not find her silver-eyed parents. It was a terrible situation for such an adorable little girl."

James asked politely, "Then why don't you adopt her?"

Katarzyna looked down, as if in regret, "Neither Wenceslaus or I will have the time necessary to devote to parenting her. I don't want to entrust her care to a nanny or governess."

James suggested, "Then why not entrust her to Lewis and Katja?"

"Hand a little girl over to a prospective mother who just a few months ago tried to kill herself because of one failure? What kind of Cesarzowa would I be to do that?"

_The kind that kills the children of the royals one night and turns around and starts caring for other children as if they were your own. _

James had no idea how Katarzyna could have carried that out, as it didn't square with her often charming maternal side when it came to other children. Katarzyna Romanowa was a very contradictory person, going from one extreme of annihilating royal families to the other of ending serfdom and freeing slaves. Sometimes he didn't know what to think of her.

James put up his arms in exasperation, "Then why am I getting this girl when I have no experience of being a parent?"

Katarzyna sighed, "There are times when you nearly drive me up the wall with your inability to take a hint. Isn't it obvious? The only way you would not be adopting a silver-eyed slayer's child is if you were the father."

James froze in shock.

"Lillian surely must have hinted at it to you at least once," the Cesarzowa stated.

James found his mind flashing back and gulped when he made a realization.

James put a hand to his forehead, "She said something wonderful had happened."

James found that he could not stop the tears flowing.

He tried to clear his eyes, "I want to see my daughter. I want to see my darling dziewczynka."

Katarzyna gave him a look, "It would be best if she didn't first see you crying."

James sighed, "I'll try my best not to," he promised.

The Cesarzowa yelled, "Captain Tymoshenko!"

A door opened behind James and he turned to find his former superior standing at attention a few meters away, her duratium-plate armor gleaming in the sunlight.

Katja bowed and asked, "Yes, Your Grace?"

"Captain," Katarzyna smiled, "please bring up my goddaughter to see her father."

Katja hustled out and James could faintly hear a stream of whistles once the door was closed once more.

James blinked away more tears, "What's her name?"

Katarzyna grabbed a nearby sheet of paper that had been lying on the black couch beside her feet.

The Cesarzowa read without emotion, "Chloe Katarzyna Havel: born in the Henan Kush Monastery to Lillian Patricia O'Malley. The one outside observer was the warrior Wenceslaus, who asked us to keep her existence a secret. Mother said the father was a male slayer named James Asher Havel."

James cried, "I killed her mother."

"Oh for goodness sakes, James, you didn't kill her mother," Katarzyna snapped. "What Lillian did was of her own doing. You can't blame yourself for everything."

James could scarcely bear the anguish, "But she wanted to get married and I never understood why, and if—"

Katarzyna, exasperated, snapped, "You made Lillian a good-faith offer to not do anything and she had you tortured and attempted to kill me. The monastery says she never came back to see the girl. You should be thanking Wenceslaus for finding a way to disguise Lillian's pregnancy from our superiors. Heaven knows what they might have done to her otherwise."

The door opened and James turned to find Katja using a hand to press a young girl forward. James stomach churned as a little girl in a ridiculously gaudy black and gold-embroidered dress was brought forward. The little girl had a very cute face, and flowing out from underneath the girl's black fur hat was curly, long white locks of hair. She could not have been any older than three years.

Chloe looked like a miniature form of a Romanow in her dress, except that James could see she had Lillian's eyes, cheekbones, nose, face and hair. Alone amongst Chloe's features of his was the brilliant white of her hair. He felt several tears of joy stream down his face as Chloe was brought forward. The girl for her part was looking at him rather nervously.

"James," Katarzyna snapped, warning him.

He wiped away the tears as Chloe was carefully let down onto her feet. The awkwardly dressed little girl took one look at Katarzyna and screamed with delight.

"Ka-tir-zee-na," Chloe yelled as she awkwardly ran towards Cesarzowa.

Chloe didn't quite make it, as her tiny feet snagged on her ornate little dress and she tripped and hit the floor face-first. Katarzyna got up and picked up Chloe just as the little girl began crying in pain, her face featuring several red bruises from where she'd hit the wood floor.

"Oh dear, come here and your godmother will make it all better," the Cesarzowa said in an affectionate tone James had never heard.

Katarzyna picked up and soothed Chloe with kisses, kind words, and within seconds, even a hankie. James hung awkwardly back as Katarzyna brought the moist-eyed girl back to the sofa, where Chloe took to clinging to Katarzyna and eying him warily.

"See, all better?"

Chloe nodded and then clutched the Cesarzowa right arm while standing on the couch.

"Chloe, I've brought someone to see you," Katarzyna gestured to him. "This is James Havel. He's going to be taking care of you."

Chloe looked at him doubtfully and squeaked, "Why?"

Katarzyna grinned, "Because he's your Papa."

This took a moment for this to sink in with Chloe.

Chloe looked at him doubtfully, "Papa?"

"Yes Chloe, he's your real Papa," Katarzyna reassured.

Chloe looked him up and down and stopped when she saw the white hair. Despite this Chloe ran around and clutched Katarzyna's back when he stretched his arms towards her.

Katarzyna sighed, "Now, is that any way to treat your father?"

The young girl was clearly too afraid of him and was shielding herself from view by hiding behind the Cesarzowa, an irony of history if James had ever seen one.

Katarzyna whispered to him, "Grab the box under your chair."

James felt underneath the chair and was surprised to find a gift box already wrapped. He nearly jumped when something inside of it began jumping around when he held it up.

"Look at that, Chloe, your Papa brought you a gift," the Cesarzowa whispered sweetly over her shoulder. "Come on, you can sit down in my lap and see what he got you."

Chloe eyed him fearfully but allowed the Cesarzowa to set her down upon upon her lap. Chloe huddled against the Cesarzowa, looking to the entire world as if she feared he might strike if she didn't hold tight against Katarzyna. It was clear to him that he had his work cut out if he was ever going to get Chloe to trust him.

Katarzyna mouthed the words, 'Open the box'.

James did as she asked, tearing the wrapping off and then opened the lid. He looked down to find a baby fox looking up at him. The fox could not have been more than a month old, and had beautiful, fluffy silver fur with a white spot on the end of its tail and two black spots around its eyes. The little fox instantly began wagging its tail and whining for attention.

"Look at what your Papa got you," Katarzyna urged Chloe.

James picked up the baby fox, which began licking his hand and wildly wagging its tail as he set it down in his lap and scratched it behind the ears. He noticed the fox was a boy, but was bewildered to find it so tame. He had never heard of a pet fox before.

Chloe exclaimed in glee, "Puppy!"

"Ah, would you look at that, your Papa got you a Silver Fox," Katarzyna pointed out to little Chloe. "What do you say to your Papa?"

When Chloe proved too bashful to say anything Katarzyna sighed, gave up, and motioned for the little fox to be handed over. Chloe squealed in glee as the fox affectionately began licking her face with his tongue.

Chloe asked, "What's his name?"

James mentally scrambled to come up with an answer. For some reason the only thing he could think of was his old nickname while he as a boy at sea.

"Maverick," James gasped after a few seconds.

"Mav-er-wick," Chloe adorably mispronounced.

Katarzyna got up and left Chloe and the fox playing atop the couch. James got up and looked his ex in the eyes.

"I can't thank you enough for this," James said while wiping a tear away.

"A Cesarzowa always pays her debts," Katarzyna quietly replied. "My new head of the Imperial Scientific Society, Tesla, said his friend Belyaev had been breeding foxes for domestication. He offered me one but I thought given the circumstances you could use it more. Now then, I really must be going. There are 12 legal systems to merge into one, 147 units of measurement to abolish and courts to be set up. I'll leave you to some much-needed father-daughter bonding."

Katarzyna Romanowa turned towards the door.

"Kasia, wait," he said, catching her arm before she got up. "Thank you so much for this," he said while Chloe took to awkwardly picking up Maverick.

"James I hardly need—"

He grabbed her and gave her an exquisitely passionate kiss. Katarzyna pulled out eventually with a guilty grin upon her face.

"James, come on, you know I'm getting married," she said sheepishly, her expression reminding him of an earlier, more innocent time together.

Chloe squealed with delight, oblivious, as she ran around the couch while Maverick clumsily ran around chasing her.

"You did say you liked a few guilty pleasures," James smiled.

Katarzyna blushed at him and walked to the back door and gave him one last time plaintive glance.

"Goodbye James," she said with a mix of affection and regret.

"Goodbye," was all James could manage to reply.

Katarzyna cast one last glance at him, "I'm sorry, James."

With that the love of his life opened the door and walked out. A part of him wanted nothing more than to run after her and tell her how much he loved her for all she'd done. Without her he might never have known about Chloe, nor seen the end of the world's longest war. She was a woman of contradictions, butcherer, conqueror, hero, villain, savior of the people and an oath-breaker. But most of all, no matter what else happened; she would always be his silver-eyed empress.


	25. Chapter 24: Epilogue

**Chapter 24: Epilogue**

* * *

**Excerpt from "A Shrinking World"**

**By Nikolai Aleksy Tesla**

**Before the Great War started, the world was beginning to shrink, not in terms of scale but in how fast people could traverse it. Some 1200 years before the Great War's end, the once-mighty Seljuk Empire collapsed. It had ruled the entirety of the supercontinent's east and west, but its rule had not extended north into the Bengal. Its demise was aided not only by politics but also by the slow pace of communications. When hordes of barbarians invaded on horseback from the Bengal, the empire was only able to react as fast as its leaders received the messages from men on horseback. This lag in reaction time proved fatal to the Seljuks eventually and would, in time, limit the scope of the many petty successor states that followed its downfall.**

**The first attempts at improving communications and otherwise 'shrinking' the world were dirt roads and cogs, the first true ocean-going ships. Since ancient times some lords and government officials had used carrier pigeons; these birds were relatively reliable and when released would fly by instinct back to where they were raised. Taking advantage of this, many army commanders would update their sovereigns on campaign by fitting a short message upon the birds and sending them on their way. The problem with this approach was pigeons only fly one way and are not completely reliable.**

**Bohemond, the first Sultan of the Bengali Empire, hit upon an even better species of bird to carry his messages: ravens. Ravens, being more intelligent, proved easier to train and were the first messenger birds capable of remembering how to travel between at least two points. It thus became possible for Bohemond and his officials and commanders to be constantly in touch with little fear of messages being intercepted. Ravens were also many times faster than the fastest horse-based messengers and minimized the lag between sending messages and receiving replies. When a rival tried to surprise Bohemond militarily, he learned the hard way how difficult it was to surprise someone relying upon a raven-based mail system.**

**It was Henry I, founder of Comnenia, a realm in the continent's west, who took Bohemond's system even further. Dragonets, a small, dragon-like species roughly as large as an average dog, had been domesticated by several breeders. They had previously only been used for hunting and demonstration, but Henry realized the species might also make superb messengers. Dragonets, which are more intelligent than even ravens, proved him right. Eventually several were trained to fly between multiple locations quickly. It was later discovered they were even capable of flying enormous distances over ocean.**

**Around this time several major advances were made in ship design and construction. The cog was steadily modified over time, with the first rudder introduced some 350 years before the Organization's downfall. Over time the cog evolved into more advanced ships, the carrack and the caravel, both of which were larger, faster, and far better suited to deep ocean travel. When the Alliance of Nations was founded, the first members of the Organization made the long trip northwest from Busan to Toulouse on a small fleet of caravels. So secretive was their mission that they burned their ships before islanders were aware and then sent all future communications, with a few exceptions, by dragonet over the ocean.**

**Over the 110 years of the Great War, dragonets proved vital to the secrecy of the Organization, as a string of ships leaving port for an unknown destination would have tipped off the Grand Alliance's spies far earlier. Nevertheless, the Grand Alliance did eventually find out about the Organization's existence and would eventually infiltrate the research group. They were prevented from assaulting the Organization directly by two things. One was the reasonable fear that if they revealed their knowledge of such a great secret, the Alliance of Nations would react by completely revising their intelligence arrangements. The other was the Allied Navy, which was equipped with faster, copper-keeled, better-armed galleons lined with row after row of heavy cannon. The Grand Alliance in contrast had a fleet that was still mostly equipped with oar-propelled galleasses. The Bretonese had in the meantime developed the man o'war, a warship that…**

* * *

Minhae Choung Park heard the cannonball a few seconds before it splashed into the water a hundred meters ahead. She was standing upon the bow of the former CMS Conquistador wearing a loose-fitting sailor's outfit with a grey overcoat. The Conquistador was a sizable galleon, which she, along with some survivors of the coup attempt, had captured and taken to flee. There was only one problem: they were being pursued by Katarzyna Romanowa's navy.

Minhae whipped her head around, leaned over the port side, and looked back. A smaller warship was only half a kilometer back and had been closing in on them all day. The galleon's sails were full of wind and its deck teeming with armed men. Atop its mainmast, a large black flag with a golden, double-headed imperial eagle flew. The flag served as a bitter reminder as to just how close she had come to overthrowing the Romanows.

"Look out!"

Someone knocked her down as the sound of a cannonball hitting wood rung in her ears. Minhae pushed a ponytailed male slayer off her chest to find the Conquistador's deck awash in blood along with dead and screaming wounded men. Minhae got up and looked back to find the nearby railing shot to pieces, its splinters littering the deck or embedded in men's bodies. One of the bodies was of a female slayer, the girl dead of a wood splinter wedged into her forehead.

"Yoon," Minhae identified her.

She looked beyond to find Yoon's killer; it was yet another Romanow galleon flying a huge black and gold flag off its stern. It was just less than a half kilometer distant and had been closing in on them all day as well.

"At this rate we're going to have to stand and fight, Rafael," Minhae sighed.

"We're about to hit the fog and then we'll stand a chance," the male slayer replied.

Minhae almost laughed, "Stand a chance? We have one 40 gun galleon that doesn't even have enough people to deliver one full broadside, let alone two. We're down to thirty slayers and less than fifty men and we're up against two fully manned 30-gun galleons with captains dead-set on presenting our heads to the Romanows. I thought you said we'd be in Haaraleen already!"

"If the wind held," Rafael corrected, defensive.

Men were scurrying around on deck of the Conquistador washing away the blood, throwing the dead overboard and taking the wounded below deck.

"We're about to enter the fogs of Haaraleen," Rafael said, motioning forward with a nod of his head.

Minhae turned her head and found the Conquistador entering into fog thick enough to obscure her pursuers from view.

Rafael snapped at the ill-clad sailors, "Douse the lights!"

The forward batteries of their pursuers fell silent for a moment after the grand rear lantern's light was doused. That ended a few seconds later despite them being out of sight, a pair of shots whistling by to the port side.

Rafael snapped at the pilot, "Bring her starboard thirty degrees."

Minhae let her handsome subordinate make the command but was confused as to why he had issued it. Her confusion must have been obvious, for he explained a moment later.

Rafael pointed to a distant light far ahead of the ship's bow to port, "Lighthouse."

"We're almost there then," Minhae sighed in relief.

She smelt the ocean as the wind whipped by her face but also the vague smells of land. Annoyingly the wind whipped some of her long bangs over her right eye. Minhae flicked them out of the way and looked up and gasped as a huge shape emerged from the fog.

She screamed, "Turn us hard port now!"

Looming straight ahead of the Conquistador was a ship of immense size. It was four decks tall, wide, with masts at least a third taller than any the Conquistador possessed, and it was firmly in the Conquistador's path. Minhae glimpsed the Conquistador's pilot swing the wheel hard to starboard while everyone rushed to grab onto something on the opposite side of the ship. As the moment dragged on, she failed to hear any sound of collision, but the two ships were still only meters apart. Finally they cleared the big ship.

Minhae snapped at Rafael as the huge ship disappeared into the fog, "What in the blazes was that ship doing there?"

"I think we may have run straight into—"

"Two ships, one ten o'clock the other two o'clock," a sailor called out.

"Put out the anchor and run up a white flag," Minhae ordered her men.

Rafael turned to stare at her with a look of supreme confusion, "Commander—"

Minhae heard the anchor dropping, but it worryingly still hadn't hit bottom yet.

She added a command, "Furl the sails!"

Everyone, both men and silver-eyed slayers, ran about frantically trying to follow her orders. A large jolt was all the confirmation Minhae needed that the Conquistador's anchor had finally hit bottom. Within moments the Conquistador had stopped facing into the potential broadsides of two even larger galleons. Loud whistles showed the ships were occupied, and within half a minute not one but three fully-armed galleons were surrounding them, including the enormous one they had nearly collided with a few minutes earlier.

"Fucking hell," Rafael cursed as he watched it come closer, "I didn't know there were ships that large. That's got to be a 120-gun monster or my name's Bertha."

"Well Bertha, I don't know if you've noticed, but she's opening her gun ports," Minhae observed, real fear sinking into her.

All three of the larger warships were doing so simultaneously, but Minhae's hope jumped when she noticed the men on deck were holding off firing their muskets, arquebusses and carronades. A man in a spectacularly decadent, blue and orange uniform came forward onto the deck and looked them over as if inspecting livestock about to be slaughtered.

The naval commander yelled, "Heb je je overgeeft?"

Someone blurted, "Who the hell is that?"

Rafael curtly replied, "It's the Haaraleenese navy. They're asking us to surrender. I recommend we take them up on the offer, Commander. If we surrender the Romanows will have initiated hostilities with Haaraleen if they fire upon us."

Minhae let out a deep breath and thought about it.

The Haaraleenese naval commander on the largest ship shouted once again, "Heb je je overgeeft?"

"I recommend you give him an answer before he blows us out of the water," Rafael urged. "All three of their ships are opening their gun ports."

Minhae looked and saw this was true and merely nodded.

Rafael leaned over the railing and shouted to the commander, "We geven!"

Minhae looked over at Rafael, "What'd you say?"

Rafael sighed, "I told them 'we surrender'."

* * *

The grave was simply marked by a gravestone with the name "Deneve Royale" atop it. Below the name was marked, "Liberator and protector of the people of Toulouse, long may she rest in peace."

Renée glanced sideways upon hearing a large amount of sniffling as she stood before the grave while braving a brisk, cold wind. Standing next to her in all-black leather was Helen, who looked to be almost as devastated as the day she'd come to Miria with news of Deneve's death.

"She would have wanted to be buried here, Helen, alongside her comrades," Renée soothed. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself about what happened."

Helen got teary-eyed as she knelt to place a single red rose atop the granite grave marker. Alongside it were some seventeen others, all of them marked with the names of claymores that had died.

"You would be if you just watched it happen in front of you," Helen cried, "Out here in the open we were like gods compared to mere men. I thought there was nothing of this earth other than Yoma and Awakened that could kill us. I was such a fool."

Renée looked Helen in the eye, "We were all fools at one time in our lives. I used to believe the Organization was fighting to save humanity. I even believed it after I was forced to watch your comrades' yokis disappear one by one. The truly horrible part when I think back on it now is they wanted to know if any of you had fled. I was only twelve years old and I didn't understand why they wanted to know."

Renée glanced over to the right, her eyes settling upon the gravestone marked Cynthia de Toulouse. She had never met Cynthia and barely gotten to know the taciturn Deneve before the latter had passed away. The graveyard was in a secluded grove of pine trees just around the hill from the town of Pieta, where all but Deneve and Cynthia had died. Renée noticed that something was missing.

"Where are their swords?"

Helen practically spat out her answer, "With fucking Violetta Angevin's little silver-eyed bitches. It wasn't enough for them to kill Virginia; Violetta had to give us the finger by taking ten of our comrades' swords to arm her little posse of protectors. When I get my hands on that bitch, I'm going to wring her scheming little neck!"

"But there was only ten of them," Renée pointed out. "What happened to the rest?"

"I would have thought the Queen would have told you," Helen said, a smug look of superiority upon her face for once. "Your future mother-in-law had the rest of the swords put in the Royal Treasury for safe-keeping," Helen said, throwing her arms up behind her head. "I thought she would've told you."

Renée glanced over at Deneve and Cynthia's graves and asked, "How did they die?"

"I swear you just don't take a hint about me not wanting to talk about such things," Helen groaned, throwing her hands out in a gesture of exasperation. "You want the damn details? Alright, Highness-ness—"  
Renée snapped, "Would you quit calling me that?!"

Helen smiled for once, "What are you going to do if I don't, grow a sense of humor?"

Renée puffed up in indignation, "I have a sense of humor."

Helen kept prodding, "Really? When were you going to inform me of this startling development?"

Renée shot back, "Those are some big words for you. Are you going to answer my question or not?"

"Well your boring intellectualness must be rubbing off, what can I say," Helen smart aleckly replied. "I tell you what Renée , seeing as this is your last week of being a mere mortal and not a royal, I'll give you the details on one condition."

Renée pushed a strand of hair out of her right eye before asking, "Which is?"

Helen circled around, her arms crossed.

Helen gestured south towards the midday sun with a backwards jab of her thumb, "You know, I've never heard just how it was you survived being taken captive by an Abyssal One. Claire told me years back that Riful liked torturing her prisoners into awakening. That and if you pissed her off, Riful would kill you straight off. Of course, I'm not so sure Claire should be alive today if that were really true. Anyways, last time I checked, trying to escape an Awakened usually pissed them off. Getting killed would be the easy way out."

"When I tried escaping it did piss Riful off," Renée admitted. "She'd cut off my legs a few days before to prevent me escaping, so I had to reattach them. My excuse was the distraction of not having legs was preventing me awakening whatever Rafaela and her Awakened sister had become when they sort of died together."

"You mean the thing Claire so helpfully decided she needed to commune with," Helen deadpanned.

"Riful was nuts; she had no idea what she was dealing with," Renée said, shaking her head in disapproval. "I knew it would be suicide to stick around. When Claire showed up and distracted Riful, I used a yoki pill I'd snuck inside my uniform to disappear. I ran for it and was getting away from her stupid Awakened companion when she decided to teach me a lesson."

Helen scoffed, "Let me get this straight, you, having just reattached your legs and unable to use any yoma energy to get you moving faster, outpaced an Abyssal One to safety?"

"If you'd let me finish, maybe you'd have known I didn't escape," Renée countered.

"Touche," Helen admitted.

"Riful caught up and tried to kill me, and would have, had her tentacle not missed my heart by a few inches," Renée said, unamused. "So is that the sort of story you were wanting to hear, Madame Humorous?"

Helen's eyebrows arched, "But how did you survive?"

Renée threw up her arms, exasperated, "I played dead. What else could I have done? I wasn't going anywhere in my condition, the entire area was crawling with bloodthirsty Awakened that ate anything in sight, and I forgot to mention I was unconscious."

Helen started laughing, "Wait, wait, wait, you played dead while you were unconscious? How does that work? Did you sleepwalk your way to safety as well?"

"I was being serious," Renée snapped. "I was only unconscious for a little but then—"

"You can't play dead when you're unconscious, Renée , you just can't," Helen laughed. "Now this is why I need you around; even when you're trying to be serious you keep coming up with comic gold. Only you could say that with a straight face. Oww!"

Renée lost her temper and slapped Helen for her insolence.

"I nearly died and this is how you talk to me?"

Helen, red-cheeked from the slap, held up her arms, "Alright, maybe I deserved that."

"You're darn right," Renée agreed in righteous indignation. "Would you prefer me to start laughing when you talk about surviving your assassination attempt?"

Helen sighed, "Renée , I love you like a sister, but sometimes you need to know when to not rub things in."

"Sorry," Renée amended.

Helen took out her sword.

Renée snapped, "I said sorry!"

Helen rolled her eyes and pointed it at the grave of her late comrade-in-arms, Cynthia.

"You always were too hasty in jumping to conclusions," Helen commented as she tapped the tombstone with the tip of her sword. "I thought you wanted to know what happened to dear old Cynthia."

"Oh... yes," Renée agreed, taken aback by Helen's sudden seriousness.

"It's really quite simple," Helen sighed, "Cynthia tried to get Claire out of that thing alongside Priscilla and got killed in the process. Don't talk about it to Claire; she still blames herself for what went wrong. Now then, you wanted to know what killed Deneve, yes?"

"If it doesn't bother you," Renée demurred.

Helen let out a sigh, "It's going to bother me whether I want it to or not. Come on, I'm taking you there."

Renée frowned, looking around the tree-lined, brick wall-enclosed graveyard, "Taking me where exactly?"

Helen hopped over the three-foot tall brick wall and pointed with her sword to a nearby mountain, "To the place where Deneve last walked this earth."

Renée followed up the old gravel path, which zigzagged its way up the mountain. The view was spectacular, although the smoking volcano far to the north was slightly disconcerting. All around the valley were innumerable, snow-capped peaks glistening in the sunlight. A look down found the burgeoning boomtown that was now Pieta. It looked easily three times the size when they had last left it, with palatial homes being built up in its center and more shantytown-like housing on its outskirts. Helen, long silent, finally cleared her throat.

Helen turned her head left, over her shoulder as they walked and looked Renée over.

"What?"

Helen sighed as they walked together, "You remember those days don't you, the ones before men got clever fighting us? What I wouldn't give to live one more day in a time before gunpowder. We'd still have Nadia and Virginia with us, and Miria's life would never have been endangered without it. Where is the honor in fighting an opponent with a weapon that merely requires you to point and shoot?"

"We're not going back to those days," Renée gently reminded, "and they weren't exactly paradise if you remember what happened here over a decade ago."

Helen glanced around at the snow-capped peaks, her hair fluttering in the wind.

"It's hard to believe it's been over a decade since that day," Helen murmured. "I can still remember it like it was yesterday. The blood, the adrenaline, the absolute terror etched into your very heart when that huge group of Awakened came towards us. I see them being killed over and over again in my nightmares. Thanks to that bitch Violetta Angevin, they don't even have swords left to remember them by."

"She'll pay her price in the end," Renée reassured at they jumped over a fallen log.

Helen shrugged, "I've seen too much in this world to think that'll happen."

"Have a little faith, Helen," Renée replied.

Helen balked, "Faith? Where was Virginia's god when they were laying a dynamite stash outside her cell? What wrong had she ever done Violetta Angevin? Did Baron von Staufen deserve to be blown up by the Inquisition? We've lost too many good people for no just cause but intrigue and lust for power."

Renée knew better than to respond to this, as it would have only encouraged Helen to keep ruminating in her own distress.

They finally turned around a corner and Renée stopped in shock. Beyond was a large hole to an equally large tunnel. A set of steel tracks was leading slowly downwards to Pieta. The tunnel was guarded by what looked to be an entire battalion of guards in full armor. Abruptly a donkey came out of the tunnel lugging a pair of sizable wheeled carts down the track to town. Each cart gleamed in the sun, their many-colored diamonds a wonder to behold. A score of men escorted the miner leading the donkey onwards.

"This is the diamond mine Nadia found," Renée murmured.

"It's the mine Deneve found," Helen whispered back.

Renée looked over in surprise, "Deneve?"

A tear trickled down Helen's cheek, "It was right after that stupid bitch Marcella van Dam killed Rachel and kidnapped Raftela and Audrey onto a ship bound for the mainland. We had just killed the last Awakened and Deneve and I were feeling cocky. I mean, why not?

We had defeated the Organization and Marcella van Dam had fled. We felt there was nothing around that could possibly kill us. We were so damn wrong."

Helen dropped to her knees and cried.

Renée heard a cold but apologetic tone new in Helen's voice. She reached out and touched her comrade's shoulder out of sympathy.

"It was my fault," Helen sobbed. "Deneve wanted to do some exploring because we had nothing better to do other than see graves up here at Pieta. It took us a half day to get up here from the town. We stumbled upon a little cave entrance right there. I don't like being underground, but Deneve called me a coward so I followed her in. We realized we couldn't see a blasted thing, so we came back later with some torches. That's when Deneve spotted them."

Renée , perplexed, asked, "Spotted what?"

Helen sniffled, wiping away tears, "Those stupid diamonds."

"But I thought—"

"We found them, Deneve and I," Helen confessed. "Right in that damn mountain. She kept insisting we had to go deeper, and the diamonds kept getting bigger the further we went in. Deneve and I thought we were invincible and nothing could go wrong. What could possibly kill a big, bad claymore now that all the Awakened and Organization members were dead? Then the ceiling caved in on Deneve and not on me and..."

Renée held Helen's head tight against her chest as her comrade sobbed uncontrollably.

Helen managed only a whisper, "What could kill a big, bad claymore, right?"

Renée understood what had happened now. Even though Deneve was an elite claymore, she had been no match for hundreds of tons of rock caving in on her deep underground. Helen's drinking and nihilistic behavior afterwards made all the more sense. She'd seen her friend disappear and die under a terrifying cave-in and had had to flee to save her own life no doubt, Renée thought. It was a bitter irony. Deneve, someone who few could have possibly defeated or threatened above ground, had died in a time of peace through no fault but her own. There was only one thing that Renée didn't understand.

"Why did you tell Nadia about the diamonds?"

"I... I didn't mean to," Helen cried, her words broken up by sobs. "I didn't want anyone... finding the stupid diamonds. But when we came back to Pieta I got... I got so drunk. Miria told me to get my act... together... make certain Deneve's death wasn't in vain. She said... she said she was investing in Nadia's mine. I couldn't... I couldn't let Deneve's discovery be for nothing. I made a couple of hints..."

Renée shook her head, "The diamond money should all be yours then!"

"I wasn't going to take any but Miria... she insisted," Helen sighed, a few tears still streaming down her cheeks. "What the hell am I supposed to do with a million Francs?"

Renée rubbed Helen on the back, "You did buy that tavern."

"A lot of bloody good that did me," Helen cried. "Now every churchgoing woman in Rabona looks at me as if I'm out to destroy their marriage. God I am so pathetic."

Renée massaged Helen's hair with a hand while reassuring her, "If that's how you feel then put your money to use somewhere out of town. Whatever Deneve would think of you now, she wouldn't want you to waste what she found. Have you ever considered opening a vineyard?"

Renée almost instantly regretted your choice of investment, as Helen was borderline alcoholic and often turned to drink during one of her not-so-infrequent bouts of depression. A vineyard was certainly not what her cousin and soon-to-be mother-in-law Queen Miria would want Helen spending money upon.

Helen's crying subsided as she gripped Renée in a vice-like grip.

"You're such a good friend," Helen sniffed, holding her head tight against Renée 's chest.

Renée gasped, "Helen, I appreciate the sentiment, but can you not give me a bear hug?"

Helen pulled back, brushing away tears, which made Renée feel a gnawing sense of guilt and regret at not comforting her friend more warmly.

"I didn't mean we couldn't hug," Renée admitted sheepishly, once more wrapping her arms around her kneeling friend and holding Helen's head tight against her chest.

"Deneve always liked her wine," Helen sniffed nostalgically.

At least she'll be growing something other than other women's ire at her, Renée thought.

"There's still a ton of cheap farmland available south of the Queen's country residence," Renée pointed out. "I'll even help you get started if you want."

Having dug herself into a hole by accident, Renée felt she might as well help Helen do something constructive.

"You're like the sister I never had," Helen sniffed into Renée 's breasts. "I'll make it up to you if you help me out with the vineyard. If you want help with landing a man, I'm your girl any day. I'll get you the hottest, most desirable man around."

Renée objected lightheartedly, "Helen, I don't want a hot guy right now—"

Helen, her head squished between Renée 's breasts, almost managed a laugh as she sniffled and let loose more tears.

"What?"

Helen murmured almost happily, "You're such a bad liar it makes me happy to think that even in this screwed up world there are still decent people around."

Renée didn't quite know whether to take that remark as a compliment or an insult.

"Shouldn't we go inside and pay tribute to Deneve?"

Renée began walking towards the mine entrance when Helen grabbed her arm.

"I can't go in," Helen confessed.

"How are you ever going to get over Deneve's passing if you won't go in?"

Helen wouldn't budge, "That mine isn't safe, Renée ."

Renée scoffed, "They've been bringing tons of diamonds and garnets out of there for over a year. Surely they've made it safe by now. Come on—"

"I'm not going to lose another family member to that cursed mine, Renée ," Helen yelled, a mix of love and fear in her face. "I'm not losing you the way I lost Deneve!"

This left them an awkward moment of silence as Renée realized just how close to family they really had become.

Helen broke the silence and flung up her arms, "Come on, I can't stand talking here anymore. Let's go downhill before I break down looking at the mine."

It took Renée a half minute of walking alongside Helen down the shady mountain path before she mustered up the will to talk again.

"I hadn't realized you and Deneve were that close," Renée remarked.

Helen let out a big sigh, "You have no idea."

Renée , curious, prodded, "For instance?"

Helen, still misty-eyed, quietly replied, "Listen, I haven't told this to anyone, and if you go around talking I swear you will regret it forever."

Renée held up her hands and professed, "Alright, alright, you have my word. I thought you trusted me like a friend."

"I'm sorry, but this is sensitive," Helen soothed while sitting down on a fallen log in the midst of a secluded clearing.

Renée sat down on top of a stump as she waited for Helen's awkwardly long silence thereafter to finally end. Finally she had had enough.

"Well?"

Helen bluntly asked, "Have any of the Pieta survivors ever told you what happened after the battle?"

"Her Majesty said you trained against each other, oh, and you also raised vegetables, raided abandoned towns for frozen meat, and walked around the North to a new hiding spot whenever you got bored," Renée answered. "It sounds kind of dull."

Helen managed a small grin despite her teary eyes, "Boring even according to you."

"Hey!"

Helen sniffed in amusement, "Well you're not exactly my candidate for the most entertaining claymore around. You didn't exactly jump into whoring like Valencia or Celestyna, and you haven't gotten married to a man twice your age like Julie or Miata without asking for others' approval. You see my point?"

"I don't want to be interesting that way," Renée countered.

Helen wiped away the last of her tears while replying, "Good. I've had enough of that kind of drama. The thing about what Queen Miria told you about our experience after Pieta is... well, it's sanitized."

Renée frowned, "Sanitized how?"

Helen put out her arms, "How should I put this? Well, it's true we did train after Pieta. We were all pretty upset about what happened. Miria moved us further north, away from any potential enemies and pushed us into extremely hard training. I do mean extremely hard; the Organization makes you train, but we trained to the point of coughing up blood. The thing is it was just the seven of us up there. We had nothing better to do than train together and play cards, and no one else to turn to in our grief but each other."

Renée wasn't certain she liked the sound of where this was going but kept silent.

Helen's cheeks were turning red, "The thing is Renée , we had no one but each other and there wasn't a guy around to keep certain urges contained. Well, it wouldn't have mattered much—most guys wouldn't go near a nude claymore anyways. The important thing was that Deneve and I got quite close."

Renée blurted out, "What are you trying to say?!"

Helen sighed and pulled up her outfit up around her scarred belly, "Look at us, Renée . What man could want this in his bed if we couldn't hide it? We led horribly short lives ostracized from society and with almost no chance of relieving our worries with a man. The only companions we had were other silver-eyed females. I knew a lot of the others sought comfort in the arms of the other claymores, and most of them weren't inverts but desperate. I am not an invert, but I figured out Deneve was an invert. Before Pieta there was little between us, but after Pieta..."

"Yes?"

"Promise me you won't go talking about this," Helen asked.

"On my honor," Renée declared, her curiosity overcoming her distaste.

"I was so lonely," Helen admitted, "so terribly lonely. It was year after year of nothing to do but train and play cards. It makes you either hate everyone you're around or get really close to them. So Deneve and I became a lot more than friends. After we overthrew the Organization though, I told Deneve I wanted to be with men. Deneve never forgave me for that. That was the day we found those blasted diamonds."

"Oh," Renée murmured, feeling light-headed by the revelations.

Helen held her head in her hands while speaking into the ground, "We stuck together out of habit and we tried to appear like normal. The thing is Deneve wouldn't listen to me anymore. I tried to warn her off going deeper into the mine, but that only seemed to encourage her. After she died..."

Helen broke down and could not manage to continue. Tears overwhelmed her once more and Renée rushed over to off Helen her sympathies. She held Helen's head against her chest and stroked Helen's blond hair.

Helen cried into Renée 's chest, "Tabitha and Matilda said it was my fault. They said if I hadn't cheated on Deneve she'd have listened to me and still been alive. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about what might have been if I hadn't strayed. I'm not a betrayer am I, Renée ?"

Renée rubbed Helen's back and whispered, "Listen to me, Helen. It was an accident; it wasn't your fault."

Helen cried, "But I was with her for five years. If I'd been true she—"

Suddenly all of Helen's devil-may-care attitude to life and her self-destructive seducing of other claymores' husbands made more sense. If Helen had truly believed herself a horrible person and a cheater responsible for a friend's death, what harm could seeking solace in the arms of a married man possibly do?

"Don't listen to Matilda, Helen," Renée said in a fierce whisper. "You can't let your guilt destroy who you are. Deneve's death was an accident that you tried to prevent. You were doing the right thing, even if Deneve was upset with you for it."

Helen didn't say anything, but she hugged Renée tight and slowly her crying stopped and then her sniffling began to peter out.

Helen murmured into Renée 's chest, "Merci for everything, Renée ."

"That's what I'm here for," Renée added with a smile.

There was an awkward pause as they continued their embrace in silence for another half minute as the birds chirped around them and a breeze rustled gently through the treetops.

Helen muttered as she held her head against Renée 's bosom, "Renée , don't take this the wrong way, but I find your boobs really comforting."

"Helen!"

* * *

"Well so much for that vaunted Haaraleenese neutrality," Rafael complained.

Minhae almost grinned as a way of response, for they were not headed back east to the mainland on a prisoner ship nor had they been executed outright. Instead they were sitting quite alive on a secluded part of the Haaraleen Isles, a lush green and blue landscape all around them. It was a typically cloudy, temperate day, with a cool breeze blowing in off the water.

Rafael's small lips pursed, "What?"

"You'll notice we're still armed and alive," Minhae noted. "If they had wanted to, they could have blown us to oblivion long ago. Instead we're cooped up on a peninsula and simply not allowed to go inland."

Rafael angrily motioned towards the impressive series of fortified walls manned by thousands of well-armed Haaraleenese soldiers, "This is not freedom!"

They were sitting atop a hillock overlooking the zigzagging, sloped walls that guarded the way further into the Republic of Haaraleen. Atop the battlements were dozens of large Haaraleenese flags, each consisting of an orange x upon a rich blue background. Below and behind them was the tip of the narrow peninsula, which in Minhae's estimation could not have been more than a kilometer wide. The only shelter was a grand old manor which had been run down and ill-maintained before its evident conversion to a place of internment.

Minhae looked her handsome subordinate in the face, "It's not death, either."

"I did not join your effort to overthrow the Romanows for this to be the rest of my days," Rafael grumbled. "What the hell are we supposed to do with our time but train and eat?"

"We both know there's other things to occupy one's time," Minhae remarked.

Rafael scoffed, "And we both know you're not interested in them and never have been. Why in the world didn't Indira Raheja come with us?"

"She believed she would be safer in her old homeland of Bengal," Minhae informed him. "That's why she took the other remaining twenty silver-eyed survivors northeast with her from Visegrad and headed northeast. I told her she was being a fool but you know Indira; the only person's opinion that matters is her own. She is going to die for that mistake."

Rafael crossed his leather-clad boots over and asked, "You don't seriously think the Bretonese are going to kill her, do you?"

Minhae laughed a moment, "A known traitor to their great new rivals, the Romanows? More likely they'll welcome her with open arms. They're already employing hundreds of our kind as mercenaries, and they seem to enjoy giving Katarzyna Romanowa the middle finger lately. Why wouldn't they hire her? It won't stop the Romanows' revenge; so long as Indira stays on the continent it will be only a matter of time."

Rafael looked over in clear disbelief, "You can't be serious. The West Bengal Company is a major military power; they have a private army of 300,000 well-equipped and trained men. The Cesarzowa would not risk war so soon after attaining peace."

"Who said anything about the Cesarzowa?"

Rafael figured it out a moment later as he looked out to sea, "You really think Bastia Romanowa will go to such lengths?"

Minhae watched as a pair of massive warships steadily floated by the tip of the peninsula before answering, "There is no power strong enough in the Bengal to deter Bastia Romanowa from hunting Indira down. We tried to kill her during her labor; most silver-eyed slayers would go to any lengths in revenge for that. They don't call Bastia the 'imperial bulldog' for nothing; once she has set herself a goal like killing Indira she will never let go."

Rafael abruptly changed the tack of conversation, "Why did you back the coup?"

Minhae glowered back at him, "What do you want, Rafael? Do you expect me to repent for backing it now that we've lost?"

Rafael averted his eyes, his voice bitter, "We lost near sixty slayers trying to take down Bastia Romanowa. Why the hell weren't we going over to take out the Cesarzowa or even Rima? What was the point in us even going after Bastia if we left the most dangerous Romanow alive? Even Rima's very nearly as dangerous a warrior as Bastia, and I rather doubt we had anything to fear from Bastia's newborns."

Minhae upended the conversation with a single question, "Do you know what happened the day of the Romanows' coup, on the fifth of December?"

Rafael frowned, "Everyone knows what happened on the fifth of December a year ago. Field Marshal Poniatowski and the top army brass backed the coup against the royals so they could install the Romanows into power. What does this have to do with Bastia?"

"Everything," Minhae informed him. "You said earlier you wanted to know why I backed the coup. My reasons all tie back to that day."

Rafael glanced over, "Your reasons all tie back to that coup? They had better be damn good ones, because if you haven't noticed every report from the mainland we've had said Sergei died a monster. If we were so in the right, how is it we wound up on the same side as an Awakened as dangerous as Sergei? Why was I not informed about his condition earlier?!"

Minhae sighed, "I backed the coup long before I learned about Sergei. Say what you will about Sergei, he was willing to cut a deal with the Grand Alliance and end the war in a truce. Sergei wasn't interested in a war without end, even after he awakened. Katarzyna Romanowa however is a woman who not only thrives during war but enjoys it."

Rafael snapped, "What were you planning to do about Sergei once he turned tyrant?"

Minhae firmly replied, "When I learned the truth about Sergei I decided that once the Romanows were out of power I'd have him assassinated or kill him myself."

Rafael threw up his hands as the wind picked up off the sea, "That's a huge gamble and you know it."

"The Romanows made a huge gamble for power and outmaneuvered Poniatowski," Minhae pointed out. "Keeping the Romanows in power was a huge gamble for me even."

Rafael scoffed, "Tell me one reason why if you had not backed the coup you wouldn't be alive. Our comrades trusted you to do what was right… I trusted you. You couldn't know that you'd have any success killing Sergei. You were willing to take the risk of him on the throne for what? You know as well as I the Grand Alliance always wanted more. Sergei would not have been able to buy them off for long."

"Sergei was not competent enough to be a threat to the world's balance of power," Minhae explained. "What you fail to appreciate, Rafael, is that the Great War did not truly become 'great' until Katarzyna Romanowa stepped in and stopped playing by the old rules of warfare. I lost ten of my friends fighting her damn wars."

"I just lost Yoon to our failed coup's fallout," Rafael shot back hotly.

"I mourn her as well, but I was not the one firing the cannon that killed her, Rafael," Minhae countered. "We will have a hard enough time staying alive while we're united. It'll be that much easier for the Romanows to do us in if we fight amongst ourselves."

Rafael fell silent a moment then stared her in the eyes, "Why did you want to overthrow the Romanows? I don't want more cryptic answers or run-arounds. Just tell me why you wanted Katarzyna Romanowa off the throne."

Minhae got up and looked out to sea. Surrounding the thin, hilly, grass-covered peninsula was the sea, and not far off shore were a half score of Haaraleenese warships. Each was at anchor but fully crewed, and flying high atop their pennants was the blue and orange cross flag of their republic. Minhae's eyes caught a glint of something on the horizon.

There, far from shore, were the two imperial galleons from earlier, or so it looked. Each was sailing parallel to the shore, a large black and gold flag visible atop their mainmasts.

Minhae sighed, "The truth is the Great War was rarely a full-fledged war before Katarzyna came into it. I sometimes saw my fellow slayer squad commanders and comrades last for a decade before dying to a Dragonkin. It was war on a limited scale… a humane scale. Katarzyna Romanowa changed all that; she didn't care about losses so long as she won. I lost more friends and comrades under her command in two years than I would have in twenty had she not come along. To her, war is total; it means either total victory or total defeat. There are no negotiated peace treaties or truces with her. With Sergei there was a good chance we'd go back to something like the old days of limited war and more peace."

"And absolute tyranny under a ravenous Awakened," Rafael reminded her.

"You may have preferred him to what I fear is coming now," Minhae whispered. "There's a new war coming, slowly but surely."

Rafael scoffed, "Who's mad enough to fight the Romanows now?"

"Perhaps the Bretonese," Minhae suggested.

"They'll be biting off more than they can chew," Rafael pointed out. "Come to the point about the coup, Minhae. Why was it we went after Bastia?"

"There was a purge coming, Rafael, and I was going to be on the list," Minhae whispered. "Think about it for a moment. The Romanows had two of the six strongest warriors in their family, and nobody in their right mind would try to take the field against Katarzyna's armies. They had killed off two other elite warriors, Victoria McKenzie and Lillian O'Malley the morning after their coup. It was a precarious balance of power between the Romanows and Sergei, Wenceslaus, Indira and me. Once she chose Wenceslaus as her fiancée, Sergei would seem like a threat to the imperial family. They would probably get rid of him even if he weren't plotting a coup."

Rafael put his hands on his hips and gave her a pointed stare, "That would have left them three out of the five strongest warriors, not to mention the Cesarzowa. You and Indira together would no longer have been a large threat."

"That might be how the Cesarzowa or Rima would see us, but Bastia… our 'dear' Bastia thinks about these things very differently," Minhae explained. "Bastia likes to preempt threats, both real and imagined. Regardless of whether I intended her family harm, Bastia would have seen my continued existence as a threat even if I was actually loyal. If there's one thing for which she should be feared, it's killing off those she perceives as threats."

Rafael scoffed, "Without the Cesarzowa's permission?"

Minhae pursed her lips, "Bastia's already defied her Cesarzowa's orders once on such matters, so why not a second time?"

Rafael frowned, "When was this?"

"The fifth of December."

* * *

December 5th, 3 a.l.e.

* * *

Field Marshal Poniatowski held his arms out in a grand gesture before the assorted royals of Alliance High Command, looking those that cared right back in the eye. They were assembled in the Comnenian palace at Visegrad, where the High Command regularly met in the Council Room to set war strategy and settle issues within the alliance.

"Majesties and Excellencies," Poniatowski began rather grandly in Katarzyna Romanowa's opinion, "Allied Army High Command and also several prominent admirals, believe that the war can be won with the tools and army currently at our disposal."

There was polite clapping by the sovereigns, with their wives seated behind them demurely looking on in supposed disinterest. Like everything in this city of liars, Katarzyna Romanowa knew as she looked on from an alcove in the walls that this was a polite fiction. She was dressed in the black and gold braid of a high-ranking officer, and Field Marshal Poniatowski was dressed in similar if even more grand fashion.

The Council Room was immense, stretching half the length of a city block across, and lit from above by a suspended silver chandelier the size of a house. Below was a crescent moon-shaped table, around which the grandly dressed and mostly elderly dignitaries were gathered. Poniatowski was standing in the hollow space with the crescent table's arc, quietly and confidently surveying his superiors.

Katarzyna felt a slight twinge of excitement and anxiety as things unfolded. It was half in nervous anticipation, for things could go very badly wrong for Poniatowski's plans and her own. But there was also a something exhilarating about the anticipation as well, for things would soon operate differently if the plan worked. Considering the atrocious wartime decision-making of the assorted sovereigns, it was something she had been looking forward to for quite some time. Her eyes drifted just past the rotund King Lech of Comnenia to his still-beautiful wife, Queen Anna.

Anna, even at forty-five, was nearly the beauty she was thirty years prior. A few wrinkles creased around her big blue eyes and mouth, but her face was a mask of near perfection. She looked a lot like Bastia but with long, jet black straight hair that stretched down to near her waist. Bastia had her father's wider-set eyes, but otherwise the two seemed near-identical copies from their faces to their well-proportioned figure and even their toned arms and legs. This was easy to observe, for Bastia was leaning against the wall nearby and doing her utmost to ignore the existence of her birth mother.

Anna was dressed in spectacular fashion, wearing long-sleeved blue, white and gold-adorned robes that fit tight about her upper body but flowed loosely around her legs. The other royals were dressed in similarly grand fashions.

King Lech, Anna's husband, was in contrast a fat, graying man with a booming voice. The fabric of his royal robes was similarly colored to his wife's but even grander.

Lech clapped, congratulating the rather serious-looking Poniatowski, "Most excellent news, Antoni. I am much relieved to hear you have a new strategy to win the war. We were beginning to get a little worried after Marshal Romanowa's offensive near the Maghreb Desert failed. By all means, my good man, tell us your latest plans."

Poniatowski's face was an unreadable mask, so one could be forgiven for thinking that Antoni Poniatowski did not give a damn for the tens of thousands of men who had died because Lech pulled reinforcements at a crucial time. Katarzyna knew nothing could be further from the truth, but the royals didn't know that.

Poniatowski stepped before the royals and dropped a bombshell, "It is the opinion of Allied Army High Command that the only way to win this war is to create the position of Supreme Commander of the Alliance of Nations. The post would oversee all of the members of the armed forces of the alliance, including Special Operations Command. They would be appointed by Your Majesties, but the Allied Army would like to be able to nominate deserving officers for your approval."

Anna had gotten up and was wildly shouting at Poniatowski, "This is treason! How dare you come in here and try to usurp our rule. I ought to have your head on a—"

Lech turned around and delivered a vicious slap across his wife's cheek, "That's enough; the man has given his life to the alliance. Keep your objections private or you'll suffer again."

Anna glared silently at her husband and then got up and left the room with an air of righteous indignation.

When the doors at the far end closed with a loud thud, King Lech clapped his hands together, "I'm sorry, Antoni. She's become hysterical these days; keeps telling me how everyone's plotting to overthrow me. You know the craziness of women that age. Now then, why didn't you come to me with this plan earlier?"

'For being hysterical Anna sure has a good sense for plotting', Katarzyna thought.

Poniatowski played a cool customer, "Your Majesties, I must admit that I was deeply distressed earlier this year to see my orders overridden regarding reinforcing Marshal Romanowa. I believe you are all imminently familiar with what happened after my advice was ignored and overridden."

This seemed too much for the three dark-skinned Luo Triarchs, the largest of whom rose to berate the much more modestyly-sized Poniatowski.

"We were under a concentrated attack," the black and white-robed man snarled.

"I had warned you it was a feint by the Grand Alliance, Triarch Ngwenya, to draw away precious resources from Marshal Romanowa's offensive," Poniatowski coldly rebutted. "In the end I was proven correct and we lost 20,000 men fending off General Norihiro's counteroffensive. It is the opinion of Allied Army High Command that military strategy cannot be determined by statesmen but by our commanders in the field."

Triarch Ngwenya snapped, "Overall strategy is set by the rightful monarchs and sovereigns of the alliance, not by our subordinates."

Emir Maktoum interrupted, "Excuse me, Triarch, but as I recall the war philosopher Sun Tzu once said that war is best carried out by competent generals without interference from their monarchs. It seems to me we would be committing a great folly to ignore the great Sun Tzu and continually interfere with and override the advice and orders of our best generals. I'd like to hear out Field Marshal Poniatowski's proposal before we go blundering around in military strategy yet again."

Ngwenya silently fumed and then looked to King Lech, the de facto leader of the alliance given the strength of the Kingdom of Comnenia.

Lech had just grabbed a wine glass off a platter and put up a hand, "My friends, I propose we hear out Field Marshal Poniatowski. I am sure he did not mean anything disloyal by suggesting that the generals set war policy without control by the High Command."

King Lech's words seemed kind and considerate, but the icy tone underneath suggested he viewed Poniatowski's proposal as dangerous. Such an opinion from a monarch usually meant the subordinate it involved would shortly thereafter be purged and his supporters targeted before they became troublesome. Generals were supposed to be less independent than Poniatowski was proposing they act. The problem was all the top officers knew there was no way they'd win if the monarchs continually second-guessed their generals and overrode orders yet again. That really gave the generals only one choice.

Poniatowski smiled at King Lech's hidden menace, "Your Majesties and Excellencies, it is the unanimous opinion of the Allied Army High Command that the post of Supreme Allied Commander needs to be created to give our war effort a coordinated backing. I believe that no one would fulfill such a position better than Marshal Romanowa."

Lech sipped some of his red wine before glancing over in her direction, "You backed this proposal, Marshal Romanowa?"

The consternation in the Council Room had risen considerably at the mere mention of her name being attached to the proposal. King Lech might have purged the entire Allied Army High Command if he disliked their proposal, but it seemed even he hesitated to act if that proposal came attached with her backing. It was one thing it seemed to regard wiping out senior officers, and quite another to purge the officer who had almost single-handedly kept the alliance intact.

"I was not consulted about it," she lied, putting the royals more at ease, "but I would be honored if you would entrust such a position to me."

The royals eased up and began enjoying the wine as they regarded Poniatowski like a bunch of fat lions waiting for their prey to fall asleep. Poniatowski had told Katarzyna earlier that he expected no less from the sovereigns when they heard his proposal. They liked meddling and intensely personal control of the armed forces, and Poniatowski's proposal for a Supreme Allied Commander endangered that. Katarzyna Romanowa almost felt bad that the royals were so far behind the curve.

"I do think Field Marshal Poniatowski's motion warrants your full consideration," she added. "If I were given such a responsibility, I believe we could have the Grand Alliance on the defensive in a few months."

Triarch Ngwenya was gasping for breath after his wine went done the wrong pipe, while King Lech lost color and entire High Command looked as if they'd just swallowed a slug. They all knew the political and strategic math; Poniatowski and a few older generals they could be rid of, but not Poniatowski and their star commander. Not if they wanted to avoid losing the war and their thrones with it. They would lose those regardless; they just didn't know it yet.

Emir Maktoum calmly interrupted the collective horror, "I thank you for your generous offer, Marshal Romanowa. I would have absolute confidence in your ability to perform as Supreme Allied Commander, and I do not doubt my fellow sovereigns will join me in approving your taking such a post after a thorough discussion of the powers granted to such a position."

The royals were trapped now, for Emir Maktoum was a respected member of the High Command and his support meant they would not even be able to find a consensus in rejecting such a proposal.

King Lech recovered, his brow looking sweaty, "Thank you, Emir Maktoum. Now then, the High Command must talk in private regarding this weighty matter."

Katarzyna followed her stepsister Bastia and Poniatowski out the door past a pair of armored Silver Guards and into a grand hall. Bastia's Silver Guard subordinates closed the gold-inlaid, tall wooden doors of the Council Room behind them. These shut with a heavy thud, and the well-armored Silver Guards standing at attention tapped their halberds. Bastia smiled as she walked past a line of Alliance Guardsmen and down the magnificent main hall of the Visegrad royal palace.

In Katarzyna's opinion, the whole place at night had an almost otherworldly atmosphere thanks to the moonlight filtering in high above through huge, cathedral-sized arched windows. The main hall was easily fifteen stories tall and dominated the center of the palace. Its roof extended up in an upside-down v-shape more fifteen stories above her. It was lined by huge green marble columns wider than any wagon that were carved with grooves that twisted around the columns in a way not unlike that of vines. Her late father had once said the main hall stretched more than a half kilometer long, and Katarzyna was inclined to believe him.

Even as Katarzyna slowly walked with Bastia past row after row of well-armored Alliance Guardsmen, the hall kept going. Its features were lit by hundreds of magnificent lanterns that were attached several stories up to each of the columns. Each of these glowed brighter than any candles could and topped by multiple bronze eagles with outstretched wings. The light however did not reach beyond the bottom of the eagles' bodies, giving them an almost menacing appearance at night.

"Sister," a male voice interrupted.

They both turned to find Prince Alexander Comnenus approaching, waving a hand more like a boy than a young man in his 20s. He was wearing his royal robes, which looked out of place next to his twin sister's duratium armor. Alexander was developing a widow's peak as he aged, which he drew attention to by putting a hand through his short, dark brown hair.

Bastia, ever a master actress, serenely answered, "Yes, dear brother?"

Alexander took a moment to speak, and then only slowly, "How did the meeting go? Will there be a change in strategy?"

Bastia sniffed in amusement, "You know full well you aren't privy to such details brother. The more ears who hear what father and his friends have to say the more easily those secrets are spilt and gathered by our enemies. It isn't like you to be interested in such matters anyways."

Prince Alexander quietly replied, "People do change, Bastia. You're looking striking as always Katja, and I know things are complicated, but—"

"No," Katarzyna snapped, interrupting him. "I have had enough of the games, Alexander. We are not getting back together after what your mother did. You have had quite some time to bring her to justice by filing charges."

Alexander pleaded, "Katja—"

Katarzyna turned on him, snarling, "I am not the girl you took advantage of all those years ago. You've always been a coward, Alexander. Your mother attempted to kill me, your supposed beloved, and what did you do?"

Alexander, exasperated, gasped, "You expect me to tear my family apart?"

"It already is torn apart," Bastia quietly reminded him.

Alexander unhappily replied, "What was I supposed to do? How am I supposed to take action against my mother when my father didn't see what the big issue was?"

"Spoken like the true coward you are, Alexander," Katarzyna snipped. "You had three years to bring your mother to justice, and you cowardly did nothing. You lost my love when you stood there and did nothing; that's all you're capable of Alexander, fiddling in indecision while atrocities occur."

Interrupting all of them was a woman's scream from the direction of the palace's Council Room far behind them. Despite a few of the Alliance Guardsmen looking curiously towards the immense double doors at the end of the grand hall, none of them moved. Katarzyna noticed Field Marshal Poniatowski had a group of his officers by the doors, along with a score or more of Bastia's Silver Guards.

Suddenly a woman with long hair opened the double doors, hysterical and screaming, "For the sake of the Gods, do something, my husband's dying in there!"

Alexander's eyes bulged, "Matka?"

Katarzyna silently smirked, which Alexander noticed.

He shook her with his arms, "What did you do?"

She knocked off Alexander's arms and quietly answered, "What had to be done."

Alexander ran off down the hall towards his mother, who was sobbing disconsolately against a pillar near the Council Room doors. That didn't last long, for Queen Anna had spotted Antoni Poniatowski and his group of officers observing her without so much as moving to help.

It was possible even from a distance to hear Anna spit, "You little worm. I should have had you strung up and gutted, you bastard!"

The Comnenian queen pulled a dagger and rushed towards the gray-haired Field Marshal.

Alexander shouted as he ran, "Matka, don't!"

It was too late, for as she attempted to run forward and stab the Field Marshal the queen's weapon was knocked from her grasp by a Silver Guard. Thus Queen Anna was stumbling by the time she neared her opponent, now weaponless. Poniatowski moved like a cat, and landed a well-placed upper-cut on her brow. Anna fell onto her back and within seconds Alexander was there, clutching his mother's hand.

Anna cursed the nearby Silver Guards, "You were sworn to protect the High Command, you treacherous curs! I hope you all rot in hell!"

Poniatowski gave Queen Anna a vicious smirk, which incited her to get up and attempt to land a punch upon him. He didn't even bother landing a punch but merely sidestepped Anna's hysterical attempt and held out his foot, tripping her.

Anna landed painfully atop the hard marble floor, and Poniatowski slammed his foot down atop her back.

He leaned in low as the queen winced in pain and whispered, "The only person here that will be rotting in hell is you."

"You are gravely mistaken, traitor," Anna hissed back in obvious pain.

"It's only treason if we lose," he reminded the queen.

The Field Marshal took out a locket with a silver-eyed woman's portrait within it and placed it before Anna's eyes.

"You remember her?"

Anna spat on the locket, "She's just another silver-eyed monstrosity. What of her?"

Poniatowski kicked the queen in the side, drawing Prince Alexander in when he attempted to land a punch in retaliation. Katarzyna grabbed her former fiancee's arm and held him back from doing something stupid.

"Don't be an idiot," Katarzyna warned him, "you land a punch and you're a dead man."

Alexander quit trying to struggle against her, but instead glared at Poniatowski.

The aging officer reminded Anna, "That silver-eyed monstrosity was my wife, and you had her killed on a whim."

"So you intend to kill me in vengeance," Anna laughed. "You shall not long outlive that moment. As soon as Comnenians and the peoples of the alliance hear of what you have done, they'll rise up and overthrow you for their true monarchs, and my family will live on."

Antoni sighed, "Katarzyna Yushchenko was a woman who would not have wanted me to merely have you killed. She'd want justice for what you've done. In a few weeks you will go on trial for ordering the murder of my wife in cold blood. In the meantime, I suggest you hold back your remaining boy. You wouldn't want to lose your last son."

Anna let out an unearthly shriek as Alexander slumped to the floor, apparently having fainted at hearing the fate of his brothers.

The Field Marshal continued, "You know what your mistake was, Anna?"

"Trust in you," Anna hissed while tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Paranoia and revenge," Poniatowski smirked. "It's one of those little ironies of life. If it wasn't for you urging your husband to dismiss the identical twin 'Special Warriors', and replacing them with Romanowa's 'Silver Guard', we would never have been in a position to wipe out the entire High Command. Of course, even then, we wouldn't have been able to carry off a coup if the Alliance Guard had remained loyal to the royals. So we fed you information that there were traitors plotting against you in the Alliance Guard's ranks. Your husband systematically wiped out his most loyal protectors and replaced them with men loyal to the Allied Army, not the crown. Your sons feared hunting with companions, so they proved remarkably easy to assassinate the other day. We owe everything to your family's self-destructive habits."

Anna hissed, "You small-minded fool, you think revenge will save you when my cousins and loyal royalists revolt against this?"

Poniatowski laughed, "Small-minded? Your husband spent more time hunting than he did running the war. The High Command spent as much time bickering over who was in charge as on the war, and on top of that we were paralyzed by the High Command's consensus decision-making! You don't run a war based on a consensus, you don't set up parallel lines of command and a good leader doesn't make their military commanders compete against each other. If we'd had some competent leadership, millions would never have needed to die in the Bengal because Sultan Bahadur didn't want to let the Allied Army onto his territory."

"They won't fight for you," Queen Anna insisted. "Your little lackey army here will be crushed as soon as word breaks, and all twelve nations of the Alliance of Nations will fight for their independence from you."

"We'll see, Anna," Poniatowski demurred as he leaned down next to her. "In my book you are the traitor for betraying our war effort because you wanted revenge against Romanowa. I merely seek to combine justice with winning the war in contrast. There's also one small problem with your little theory about everyone revolting."

Antoni Poniatowski flicked Anna's head to look straight at Katarzyna, "It's her. You see, Marhsal Romanowa helped make certain this coup was effective as possible. That's why tonight, at midnight, every single officer in the Allied Army will be unwrapping secret orders at the same time proclaiming the High Command traitors to the Alliance of Nations and announcing Marshal Romanowa as Supreme Allied Commander. Those officers can choose to align themselves with a war hero, or they can try to revolt against a general who has never been defeated in battle. I think it's clear which side most will choose. This coup is about vision, Anna, and I'm afraid that after 110 plus years of failed leadership it was time for a new one. The army's vision is clear: there will be one country, one army, one navy, one currency, and one set of laws everywhere."

Poniatowski lifted his right foot off of Queen Anna's back and walked over to Katarzyna.

"I want her alive and on trial," he whispered.

The Field Marshal walked past and addressed a younger, curly-haired army officer, "Major General Suvorov, you will take a brigade of the Alliance Guard and take control of Special Operations Command headquarters. Major Tusk's team will install themselves in command there. Major General Imboden, I want all of the capital districts under martial law and a curfew imposed within the hour."

The coup was proceeding exactly to plan, although everyone knew that no plan survives contact with the enemy entirely.

Marshal Romanowa, I will require your signature in a few minutes," Poniatowski barked as she and Bastia walked by.

"Of course sir," Katarzyna nodded.

She was technically to be Supreme Allied Commander, but that was something of a mirage. Antoni Poniatowski was using her as a symbol, for she would still have to answer to a new military council of high-ranking officers. Bastia however had already determined that this was unacceptable and that once conflict erupted it might be possible to get out from under yet another man's control.

Poniatowski and his group of officers quickly departed, many of them heading in different directions down the now gloomy and lonely Grand Hall. That left only a dozen Silver Guards, the unconscious Prince Alexander, and Queen Anna, the latter sporting a purple bruise above her left eye.

Anna sat up and looked in bewilderment at Bastia, "Why?"

Bastia practically spat her answer, "I remember being sacrificed for your political ends and my belly ripped open for it. I remember how you never once wrote me or ever offered me a kind word. I remember how Katarzyna Yushchenko treated me like a daughter, and how you had her killed for merely getting in your way. She was a truer mother to me than you ever were when you sentenced your only daughter to a life of death and destruction."

"But your father, your brothers," Anna gasped.

"You said it yourself, I'm just a silver-eyed monster," Bastia shot back. "You never acknowledged me as family after I changed, so why should I acknowledge you?"

"Put her in irons," Katarzyna instructed a Silver Guard.

Queen Anna screamed as they walked away and her hands were clapped in irons, "Bastia! I swear I loved you; just please have some mercy on your matka!"

Bastia looked remarkably nonchalant as they walked past two huge, open doors and into the great Council Room once more. It was blazing with light compared to the Grand Hall. Underneath those lights was a grisly scene. Dozens of royals and sovereigns were slumped over the crescent-shaped table, the white tablecloth stained a deep crimson, not from blood but from the poisoned wine they'd spilt in their death agonies. Katarzyna watched and noticed Bastia barely even paid the dead, slumped corpse of her father any mind. Perhaps his complicity in shielding Queen Anna from prosecution for Yushchenko's death had utterly destroyed whatever she had felt for him. All that mattered now was her loyalty.

"Such a tragic way to go for men and women who liked their gluttony," a handsome, turbaned man in rich black and white robes sighed.

"Glad to see you still hale, Emir Maktoum," Katarzyna replied.

"As am I," he smiled. "I feared I might be double-crossed by your old superior but it seems the poison antidote was the real deal."

"You little cur!"

Queen Anna was being walked past them towards her future confinement and had spotted Maktoum, who was instrumental in betraying his peers.

"You always were more vicious than dangerous," the Emir joked. "What in the—"

A silver-eyed man wearing only pants had jumped into the room, his scarred and blackened belly there for all the world to see. Katarzyna recognized her old flame, James Havel, almost immediately, although he looked beat up and exhausted. He was carrying a large warrior's sword, but wore none of their usual armor.

"Marshal," he gasped upon seeing Maktoum in the room, "she's turned on you!"

Katarzyna blinked, "Who?"

James gasped for breath before answering, "It's Lillian. I tried to recruit her to the cause but she turned on us. Lillian said she's coming to take you down alongside Victoria McKenzie and 400 other slayers."

Maktoum gasped, "When will they be here?"

"Knowing Lillian, within the hour," Katarzyna surmised.

Queen Anna took the opportunity to taunt, "I told you the Royalists would put you all down like the dogs you are! I will look forward to presiding over each and every one of your trials, especially yours."

Anna had instantly changed from despondent to arrogant.

"Take her away," Maktoum snapped at a nearby Silver Guard.

"It's useless," Anna laughed. "Someone will spring me free during the attack, and then the people will rally around their rightful queen and put the lot of you down like the dogs you—"

Anna didn't manage to finish, for in that moment Bastia had driven her sword straight into her mother's belly and out her back. Queen Anna gasped in pain and hacked up blood.

Maktoum snapped, "What the hell are you doing? Poniatowski wants her alive!"

Anna weakly looked up and into her silver-eyed daughter's eyes, "Why?"

Bastia replied by pulling out the sword in a spray of blood and Anna slumped onto the marble floor, blood pooling around her belly.

Bastia coldly told her dying mother, "Your little girl died the day you turned me into one of those silver-eyed monstrosities you loathe so much."

* * *

"Can I have a kiss before the ceremony?"

Miata kissed her new husband, dark-haired and handsome Marquis Raul Tierra, on the lips. Only when he tried to pull back after a moment she grabbed him in by the collar for a longer, more passionate kiss. This prompted a round of nervous laughter from the rest of Raul's entourage of groomsmen. Raul didn't seem to care too much about that but pulled back a little sooner than she would have liked. In Miata's opinion, a minute-long kiss would have been perfectly fine if it came from her handsome Raul.

"You look more ravishing than ever," he complimented her, "the dress suits you."

Her dress was a fetching mix of red lace and gold braid. It was all about contrast and richness, from the puffy red of the upper sleeves to the tight gold mixed with red lace of the lower sleeves. A high collar that came up to her chin lined in white lace added to the palette. She did not much care for diamonds, so instead her fetching necklace, bracelets, earrings and ring were almost entirely gold and silver instead.

Miata giddily whispered to her husband as she wrapped her arms around the small of his back and pressed his manhood against her waist, "I can't wait until tonight to take it all off."

"Neither can I," Raul agreed. "Be good dear and try not to cause a further stir. Some of the priests look a little bothered at seeing your cleavage."

Miata looked down at her low-cut dress top, which hugged her figure and flaunted her budding bosom, and then looked over at a young priest dressed in white robes near a massive granite column nearby. His eyes were found her and then looked downwards before blanching and averting his eyes.

Miata grinned as she nuzzled her head against his, "I think you mean hot and bothered. Don't worry, I won't cause any problem. I'll be watching in back anyways. How long do we have to wait anyways?"

Raul rubbed his shoulder-length, fine black hair, thinking a little before replying, "I think the ceremony ought to be done in about an hour from now. How do I look dear?"

Raul was a man after a girl's heart the way he was dressed. He was wearing a fine blue and white vest, the colors being arranged in countless beautiful and ornate patterns. He wore fine black leather boots, white gloves, and a simple gold wedding ring. He had eyes like a piercing hawk that could see into a girl's heart, or so she thought.

"Perfect," Miata assured him. "Do you think my mother will get over her ridiculous little tantrum that we got married without her permission?"

Raul looked down the long aisle towards the winged altar and shrugged, "Our love will win her over eventually. She's softened towards us already just by inviting us to the wedding."

A taller man in Raul's entourage of groomsmen tapped him on the shoulder, "We'll be taking our spots. Don't stay too long."

"I'll be right there," Raul nodded before turning back to her.

Miata spotted Galk briefly out the immense bronze front doors of the cathedral for a moment dressed in his wedding day best. Miata's stomach curdled in reaction.

Miata whispered, "I still can't believe she's marrying him after what he did."

"You'll find reconciliation a lot harder if you keep second-guessing her life choices," Raul warned quietly. "You and I may believe in the totality of monogamy, but it's her choice to marry a man who wants multiple wives. I know it's hard to understand why she'd share him with anyone, but it's what she wants."

The other women concerned were in fact the claymores Anastasia and Celestyna, who during Galk's bachelor's party had behaved monstrously in Miata's opinion. First they'd flirted openly with Galk in front of Clarice, his wife to be, and then it got worse. Anastasia and Celestyna had gotten Galk drunk and taken to dancing topless in front of him. Soon afterwards they'd jumped into his lap and drunkenly rubbed their breasts against his face in full view of Clarice. Rather than object Galk had invited Clarice to join him in some sexual escapades with them in a room at the back of the tavern.

Clarice had refused naturally, believing it ill luck to lose her virginity before the wedding night. Galk had gone on without her all night.

"I still can't believe she defended him," Miata sighed bitterly.

"Some women are like that," Raul shrugged. "They fall in love with a man and no matter what he does they won't leave him. I need to get going; they're expecting me up near the altar."

Raul walked down the aisle past the gathering crowd of people in the pews. It bugged her that Raul and Galk were close enough for him to be one of Galk's groomsmen, but she loved him too much to bother much about it.

Miata walked over to a pew near the back of the cathedral and sat down while watching countless numbers of people from the Galacon extended family and their friends walk in.

Perhaps because she'd eloped with Raul without consulting or informing her mother, it had been an impossible task to convince her mother not to go forward with the wedding. Thinking about her mother made her both mad and sad, whereas her perfect Raul only made her glow. Despite everything Galk had done at his bachelor's party thrown by Helen, Clarice had been adamant about the wedding going forward.

Clarice had defended Galk's drunken escapade by saying that it was perfectly within his rights to bed Anastasia and Celestyna, for he had already asked for their hands in marriage. Thus according to her mother's reasoning, Galk was not cheating at all but fulfilling the sacred oaths involved a little early. Miata had pressed her mother on him being with other women bothering her, but Clarice's answer had dumbfounded her by actually supporting Anastasia and Celestyna having their time with Galk. As if to rub salt in further, Clarice had once again mentioned the stupidity of marrying a man twice one's age without informing her mother beforehand. At that point the whole conversation had descended into a verbal spat and Miata soon left after feeling it was not getting her anywhere.

Miata thumbed the pages of one of the holy books held in the back of the wooden pew ahead of her. Supposedly polygamy was an institution blessed by God according to the book, or so people had said. They seemed utterly sure of its propriety, saying that a passage endorsed polygamy so long as a man treated his wives equally, gave them adequate care, and took no more than five wives at a time. The blessing and the words of the book had come 'straight from God', according to Archbishop Galatea.

"Straight from God my ass," Miata grumbled quietly, which no one overheard.

A look around revealed the Teresian Cathedral to be in fine shape. Its ceiling was steeply arched to a point a score of stories above by Miata's estimation. Massive stained-glass windows depicted scenes of angels ascending, God's judgment of early heathens, and the founding of the Rabona Orthodox Church. Miata couldn't remember which Bishop was depicted, probably a Pierre or Francois that Galk's devout brother had always been blabbing on about it.

Supporting the walls holding the cathedral's vaulted windows were a series of massive granite columns that stood a dozen stories high and each was as wide as a small house. All around these massive sculpted granite colonnades were hundreds of rows of carved wooden pews. The vaulted walls of the central hall were in turn supported by the flying buttresses of the outer wall, which inside at least was covered in mosaics and smaller stained glass windows. These areas were also festooned with rows of seating for cathedral patrons.

Suddenly loud organ music chords began to fill the stone-floored cathedral, prompting many of the wedding guests to seek their seats. Miata noticed a man ensconced high above the nave before an immense organ that had been substituted in for one of the cathedral's vaulted stained-glass windows. The organist, wearing matte-black robes, had his back to the guests as he laid into his duty with a passion, his hands a blur of motion.

The organ's notes soared ever higher and higher, louder and louder, to the point where Miata half-wished she could put a sword through the highly competent organ player.

Miata grumbled, "Would it kill anyone if they didn't play the stupid organ the whole time?"

"It might be more considerate to not complain at your mother's wedding," a silky smooth female voice reproached her.

Miata looked over to find curly-haired Anastasia sitting down beside her wearing an elegant blue and gold-trimmed dress. Thinner, more petite Celestyna sat down on Miata's opposite side dressed in white. Celestyna's golden locks were short, falling to her shoulders, where she had her straight hair provocatively curled inwards. Celestyna might have been a dead ringer for Claire except that she had a longer nose, a long, cute face, and she looked like a claymore that ran for a living. Anastasia's build in contrast was more like a voluptuous sprinter. Miata personally didn't care about their looks but felt rather a lot like drowning both of them for what they'd done.

"You have a lot of nerve," Miata hissed, low.

Anastasia, true to Miata's expectations, tried to put on her good-girl front, "Listen Miata, I'm not here to excuse our actions to you earlier. I realize—"

Celestyna interrupted, "Ahem."

Anastasia's eyes flicked to her fellow bride-to-be and suddenly changed her tune, "We apologize and realize that our actions to you must have seemed crass. We've apologized to your mother already, and she's forgiven us. Clarice asked us to give you this note."

Anastasia's gloved hand held out a simple, folded note.

Miata unfolded it and read the note silently, which was in Clarice's hand.

"Miata,

My dear daughter, I cannot bear for us to be so at odds. It tears at my heart every day when I do not speak to you. It is not how relations between a mother and her daughter ought to be. In the Holy Books they speak of a son who, after becoming estranged from his father, leaves home, never to return. I cannot live such a life. I beseech thee, for all the love I cannot help but bear towards you, to let us forgive each other. Life is tough enough without such troubles.

In time I hope you will give my fiancée a chance to prove himself. After the Organization fell I despaired of ever finding a man who could love one so scarred as me. You must understand how hard I tried, but every time I tried men would turn away at the first sight of my scarred belly. When I first saw Galk several years ago, it was like I'd been struck by lightning. He was tall, dark, handsome, and muscular and had a confidence to him that one could not turn away from. It was transfixing just to watch him pass by and think of what it might be like in his arms. However I did not have the courage to approach him and talk to him for long, for he had just lost his wife. You know as well as I how hard I tried to find other men."

Miata sighed; Galk had in fact lost his second wife to the plague, having been a polygamist even back then. His first wife had predeceased his less beautiful second wife by several years, or so Helen had said. Although she could sympathize, it was hard not to feel her mother had settled for Galk out of a sense of desperation.

"Half a year ago I was assigned to work with Francois as part of a temporary military assignment. He was such a gentleman towards me I could not help but fall for him. He treated me with every courtesy. One day we kissed and I melted in his arms. He took me out to dinner, gave me lessons on etiquette and writing in cursive, showed me how to mend my clothes, and he even cooked the most exquisite dishes for me. He made me feel like I mattered, that I was beautiful, and that I was more than a silver-eyed killer in his eyes. After dinner he gave me hour-long massages, while I gave him foot massages in return. I hesitated being intimate with him; I needn't have worried.

I admit I was a little jealous at first when Francois said he would also wed Anastasia and Celestyna. He implored me to see his reasons. Anastasia and Celestyna would always be left lonely and miserable without a husband. He was doing them a kindness by generously agreeing to marry them after seeing them so depressed. Who was I to allow them to stay in such a horrible state? I could not feel it in me to deny them the happiness he has given me, and I have only benefitted from that choice. Indeed, I have joined a budding extended family that I've always wanted.

Anastasia and Celestyna pitched in with their paychecks and helped buy my wedding dress, which we shall later tailor to fit Celestyna for her dual wedding to Galk with Anastasia. It has been so lovely to have constant companions, and we have all grown to be fast friends. I do not doubt for a minute that our time as sister-wives shall be most enjoyable. I wish you to be on good terms with Galk, for he is most different from Julie's husband as possible. Whereas Julie's husband Thierry later married a normal woman with whom he now spends most of his time, Galk has shown his true love of our kind by marrying not one but three claymores. I think it says something about his great character to be willing to overlook our physical flaws."

Miata let out a long exhale of breath at reading this last sentence. Her mother had fallen so completely for Galk that his marrying two other claymores was now a positive thing. Helen always said polygamy was about a man wanting more action. Galk would certainly be getting plenty of that with three wives. But there was something odd about Galk's polygamy that had struck Miata as she thought more about it.

'What kind of man married not one but three silver-eyed warriors capable of killing you with their bare hands? What kind of man put up with their physical imperfections and many mental issues? Why the hell is it so much harder to hate him the longer I think about this?'

The thoughts she left unvoiced, given Anastasia and Celestyna's proximity. Many of the men who married multiple women were all about controlling them and making them dress conservatively. One would have to be a fool to try to control three claymores. Unlike normal women, Galk would not be able to beat his wives into submission. This rendered Galk's polygamy a contradictory mess of virtue and vices, whereas Miata had hoped she might find it universally revolting. Helen had mentioned why she didn't think much of the arrangement; every new wife meant less attention to his prior wife or wives. Either that or he was taking a new wife because the old one no longer satisfied, as many had whispered about Thierry's marriage to silver-eyed Julie.

A worrying thought struck Miata as she re-read the line about Thierry marrying another woman after his silver-eyed wife, Julie.

'Raul wouldn't do that to me, would he? No, what am I thinking, of course he wouldn't. I'm young and beautiful; what woman could possibly tempt him when he has me?'

Miata's left hand brushed her belly and she realized that there was still one physical imperfection she had: her blackened and scarred belly. Her stomach rumbled as the disconcerting notion sunk in.

"Are you done reading the letter?"

Miata looked over to find Celestyna staring at her, curious.

"I was just lost in thought for a moment," Miata mumbled, "let me finish."

"I hope in time you come to love my husband like your father. Galk has treated me as no man ever has, and for that I will love him to the end of my days. I cannot bear the thought of two whom I love so much being at odds. I hope someday you may come to see his better qualities and excuse his drunken behavior at his bachelor's party. He means the world to me Miata, as do you. In time I hope you also come to love my sister-wives like aunts, for they have been most kind to me.

Avec amour,

Votre mère,  
Clarice"

Miata looked up as the organ began playing a more melodic and ceremonial beat upon finishing her mother's letter. It had certainly seemed just like Clarice, letting others run right over her usually measly attempts at independence.

Anastasia held out her arms, "Come, let's hug and make up."

This was a step too far, and Miata let Anastasia know by glowering at her.

"If you dare touch me I'll throw you out of a window," Miata hissed.

Anastasia's smile failed for once as she backed carefully away.

"Hey, it's not like you didn't insult your mother by marrying a thirty-year old man without permission, at age 15 no less, and he hasn't even finished the proper mourning period for Nadia either," Celestyna provocatively shot back.

"Celstyna," Anastasia warned, motioning for her companion to shut up.

A significant group of individuals nearby were now looking over at the commotion, but their curiosity ended soon after Anastasia walked off. Miata was aggravated to see both of them joining the bridesmaids next to the altar. Whatever else might happen, Miata saw no need to ever be buddy-buddy with claymores like Anastasia or Celestyna. They could pretty up everything all they liked, they were still putting lipstick on an ugly situation.

"Nina, wait up!"

Miata glanced away from Archbishop Galatea coming to the altar and back down the aisle. Nina, in a simple black and white dress, had rushed down the aisle and upon then slid into the same pew as Miata. A glance further back to the left found Yuma in a red dress hastily and clumsily putting on a red slipper that had come off. Yuma, drawing an annoyed stare down the aisle from ornately-dressed Archbishop Galatea, finally managed to slip the slipper on. Moments later Miata found herself seated next to two claymores who she liked rather better than Anastasia or Celestyna.

It was not a moment too soon, for a trio of horns on each side of the cathedral blasted out the announcement of the bride and groom's joint arrival.

A look back found Clarice looking radiant and at ease on Galk's arm, each of them dressed in brilliant white. Clarice had an elegant wedding dress with long, trailing sleeves, a thick veil through which it was just possible to see her face and eyes, and a trail a few feet long. It was lovely, but it was also nowhere near as ornate and bejeweled as the future Reine Miria's bejeweled and gold-inlaid wedding dress. Galk was just a Major General, and he obviously was not one of the diamond mine owners, as was the new royal family.

Galk for his part was dressed more ornately in a white and gold-embroidered vest, fine white breeches, a black and gold-buckled belt, puffy white and blue-striped sleeves, and knee-length black leather boots. Galk was also, to Miata's eyes, annoying and incontrovertibly handsome, of the sort that made it hard for a girl to ignore. Clarice seemed rather petite against the big frame of her husband as they walked formally down the aisle together.

Miata hastily began clapping and tried to force a smile when Clarice's eyes drifted over towards her. Clarice's face lit up and she nodded in approval before passing by the crowd of wedding guests in the pews, all of whom were standing. It was just before the couple arrived at the altar that Nina leaned over.

"Sorry about arriving late," Nina whispered. "I had to find something appropriate."

Miata frowned in disbelief, "You're a part owner of the diamond mine. How could you not have had an appropriate dress on hand?"

"I guess Helen and I haven't really found a use for our wealth yet," Nina sheepishly admitted. "We're just used to doing everything ourselves."

Clarice and Galk took their places at the altar, where Archbishop Galatea donned her enormous Archbishop's hat and walked forward in her white and gold robes, grabbed a thick and richly-bound book and opened it.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the vows of—"

Yuma interrupted with a whisper to Miata, "You would not believe what was going on yesterday. I swear I've never seen anything like it."

Galatea was continuing her address, which Miata tuned out.

Curious, Miata had to ask, "What happened?"

"There was something like a dozen claymores all trying to throw themselves at your future father-in-law," Nina interjected. "Someone let slip that Galk was open to polygamy and marrying claymores, and a lot of our desperate comrades came running. He got something like a half score of marriage proposals."

Miata's stomach sank; somehow the world felt a little more unjust. It didn't seem fair that Galk's behavior would attract yet more of her kind, yet it had.

"I blame lack of silver-eyed males," Nina declared. "Few men want to marry a silver-eyed woman who can't have their children. It's made a bunch of the girls really desperate for any man who marries claymores. I'd watch your Raul closely if I were you."

Miata blanched, "They wouldn't dare."

Yuma murmured, "Nadia's wrath didn't stop Madeleine trying to tempt him."

"Nadia almost had Madeleine thrown in prison for that," Nina added. "Of course that was after they'd tried to stab each other with knives after a big confrontation at the local bar. I'd hate to be Galk. Things could get painful for him if he denied one of them and they got angry. Why are you smiling?"

"Oh, no reason, no reason at all," Miata murmured.

* * *

The organist looked down the central tower of the massive Teresian Cathedral from his balcony to the altar below. The people there looked tiny, and almost comically so against the granite pillars supporting the six-sided hollow tower's walls. A trio of individuals was gathered around the more substantial altar. To either side were two lines of five people each; the organist knew from experience which side was lined with bridesmaids and the groomsmen.

The words of the wedding vow echoed upwards, "and with the power vested in me, I declare you man and wife."

The husband picked up his new wife and carried her down the aisle and out of sight to the cheering and clapping of the parishioners. Just as the couple was clearing the front door the cathedral's massive bells began ringing. He smiled; there was something idyllic and charming about the ringing of bells for weddings.

He wore only black, from black shoes to black robes and a black hood that covered his forehead and darkened his face. He had thought he would need such attire, but it turned out he needn't have worried. No one who knew him previously had been anywhere near his small apartment just under the roof of the Teresian Cathedral. He also had free run of the cathedral and the city, which was also to his liking.

Suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find a young nun with red eyebrows and a nondescript face. She was as modest in stature as he was, and seemed as perfect-looking a nun as one might imagine.

"You need to do the ceremonial piece again," she remonstrated.

He smiled at that and turned from the balcony rails to the massive steel-piped organ.

The music began easing its way out at first but built as he worked the keys and pedals with greater and greater intensity. After some time he built up a little sweat from his efforts, but it was a career that he relished. After awhile Sister Katrin tapped him on the shoulder so that he would stop playing. He looked down and found there was no one left in the cathedral below.

Sister Katrin complimented, "Archbishop Galatea says God himself must help you play the organ, Monsieur van Gogh. She commends you on yet another superb piece of music."

"I am grateful as ever for our lady's kind words," the man replied quietly. "Now then, how fares our other business, Sister Katrin?"

"It is going slowly but no one suspects anything so far," Katrin nodded.

"Good, for we've a great deal of work to do," the organist remarked.

Rubel van Gogh touched his bent nose where it had broken against Rabona's central bridge and smiled.


	26. Special Thanks to & Glossary

**Special Thanks To**

My proofreading and copy editor, MiriaJiyuu, without whom this massive work of fanfiction would never have happened. I also want to thank my biggest fan, bmesias063 of Deviantart, who has tirelessly been cranking out fanart based upon the novels. Special mention goes to Humida and all my reviewers, all of whom helped motivate me to write the biggest claymore fanfiction in history. I also want to thank gooloo0-o of Deviantart, who did the magnificent custom covers for books 1 & 2. If you haven't seen them I urge you to check them out in full size over at Deviantart. Stay tuned to see when the sequel first drops (probably around New Year's).

**About the Story**

Some people probably are wondering what drove me to write such a huge story and why it took so long on these last few chapters. The latter is easy to answer, as it turned out my old laptop's motherboard was beginning to fail and cause problems. Thankfully everything was backed up before it failed completely, which is why I could finish this story. As for motivations, I've got more than a few. I'm writing for all the fans of Claymore out there who asked, reasonably, "wait a minute, they're living in a medieval period, why are there no bows and arrows around?" As it turns out, there are a ton of things that Norihiro Yagi could have explored but didn't. He barely touched upon religion. The politics that is driving the story's background is grossly simplistic. His heroes are often ridiculously naïve and or altruistic. His villains, like a few of the more recent ones, are a bit too one-sided. It's not a bad story, but manga limits storytelling in obvious ways.

What I set out to do was flesh out Yagi's story and add more realism to it. You might think of it as mixing George R.R. Martin's approach to "Game of Thrones" with Claymore. That's certainly part of it, but I have other inspirations, like Timothy Zahn, whose character, Grand Admiral Thrawn, still manages to inspire the Star Wars universe years after his debut and subsequent demise. Zahn and Martin are two great authors of this genre, and if you haven't read their works, I highly recommend them. Zahn made a Star Wars 'villain' so charismatic and humane you often ended up rooting for him. Martin fleshed out a tremendous backstory to his works that helped make the HBO show as believable as it is. I set out to combine a bit of their style with my own. I fleshed out the island's history, its religion, the mainland, the characters, institutions, and technologies of the manga. I also added more realistic physics, richer detail to the characters, new technologies that would change warfare, and the dangerous world of politics. In short, Claymore became a way more interesting story.

Anyone can do a Teresa-centered story and get a huge number of hits. That wasn't what I set out to get though. What I wanted was a quality story that improved my writing and gave you something good to read. I hope by the end of all this you agree with that sentiment. You may be wondering, good grief, how do you keep track of the insane number of characters and history you've added? Well one way is I developed a sizable glossary that has made it much easier to recall characters as I write. The other is that I finally put pencil to paper and came up with a hugely detailed world map. The glossary of this book you can find below, and it's mostly based on early events, not later events, fyi. As for the world map, well, I'd go over to deviantart dot com and see if a certain MiriaJiyuu has completed putting it all together. Hope everyone enjoyed this as much as I did, and stay tuned for the upcoming sequel, "Clash of Thrones".

**Glossary for "The Silver-eyed Empress"**

**Countries**

* * *

**Superpowers**

* * *

**Romanow Empire**

Semi-authoritarian state

Sovereign: Cesarzowa Katarzyna Faraja Romanowa

Ruling House: Romanow

Includes Cesarzowa's stepsister Rima, her stepsister Bastia and Bastia's husband Leon

Currency: Cesarski Krone (Imperial Krone)

Main language: Comnenian

One of two superpowers; known for its highly effective professional army, outlawing of slavery, and the abolishment of serfdom, all stark contrasts to the Grand Alliance.

Major Rivals: Grand Alliance, Kingdom of Breton

Flag: Golden Imperial Eagle (two heads) upon black background

Throne name: "The Golden Throne"

Capital: Visegrad

Institutions of the Romanow Empire (those seen in book):

Gwardia Srebrny (Silver Guard): Several hundred-strong force of elite loyal silver-eyed slayers who serve as personal protectors and bodyguards of Romanow Imperial Family. They are known for wearing unbreakable duratium plate armor.

Gwardia Cesarska (Imperial Guard): 100,000-strong force of elite veteran soldiers who protect the Romanow Imperial Family and are only committed to battle in the most dire of circumstances. They answer directly and only to the sovereign.

Chancellory: Office and residence of the Grand Chancellor, a position created to act as the Cesarzowa's head of government.

War Ministry: Branches include the Romanow Imperial Army (and its intelligence service), the Romanow Imperial Navy, Imperial Volunteers and the Imperial Intelligence Service.

Romanow Cesarski Armia (Romanow Imperial Army): Massive multi-million man force composed of millions of conscripts and volunteers and commanded by the world's best professional army officer corps. It is being rapidly updated with gunpowder weapons and is widely regarded as the most powerful army on the planet.

Foreign Ministry: Responsible for all things abroad in peacetime through its ambassadors; known for working in tandem with Imperial Intelligence Service.

The People of the Romanow Empire:

Imperial Family:

Cesarzowa "Katarzyna I" Faraja Romanowa: Head of State and Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces; the only child of late Baron Bernard Romanow and his late wife, Faraja Romanowa.

Crown Princess Rima Romanowa: Heir to the throne and Deputy Supreme Commander of Imperial Forces. Rima is the elder stepsister of Katarzyna Romanowa and one of six elite warriors that are especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics; mixed-race daughter of Malaccan and Maghrebi parents.

Princess Bastia Romanowa: Third-in-line to the throne and younger stepsister of Katarzyna Romanowa. Bastia is one of six elite warriors that are especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics and only daughter of late Comnenian monarchs King Lech and his wife Queen Anna.

Princess Kasia Romanowa: Fourth-in-line to the throne; younger stepsister of Katarzyna Romanowa and an accomplished commander; daughter of mixed-race parents.

Duke Leon Romanow (nee Gonzalez): Husband of Princess Bastia Romanowa and of Asturian descent.

Members of Imperial Government:

Antoni Poniatowski: War Minister and former Supreme Commander of the Allied Army Command and Field Marshal of the defunct Alliance of Nations; second son of Baron Anton III Poniatowski.

Anders Bergen: Foreign Minister of Romanow Empire; he is the son of a former Vastgoeterlander diplomat.

Count Andrei Tuluzy: former Silver Guardsman and current Imperial Ambassador to the Dominion of Toulouse. He is the husband of Audrey Tuluzy and of Comnenian descent.

Baron Josef Lazarov: former Silver Guardsman and Vice Imperial Ambassador to the Dominion of Toulouse and of Comnenian descent.

Countess Audrey Tuluzy: former Silver Guardswoman and former Number 3 warrior in the Organization. She is currently the First Lady of the Imperial Embassy in Rabona andof Rabonese descent.

Countess Dietrich Tuluzy: Aide to Princess Kasia Romanowa and former Number 8 warrior in the Organization; of Rabonese descent.

Members of Armed Services:

Jaroslaw Tusk: Colonel in the Imperial Guard and friend of Vice Marshal Alexei Suvorov; of Comnenian descent.

Marshal Massena: A high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army of Rivolian descent.

Marshal Singh: A high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army of Bengali descent.

Marshal Korsakov: A 70-year old, high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army of Sibirskyan descent.

Marshal Tokugawa: A high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army of Sapporan descent.

Marshal Nusayr: A high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army of Maghrebi descent.

Vice Marshal Alexei Suvorov: A young, high-ranking commander in the Romanow Imperial Army; of Sibirskyan descent and friend of Jaroslaw Tusk.

Katja Tymoshenko: Commander of the elite, silver-eyed and duratium-armored Silver Guard, the bodyguards of the Romanow Imperial Family. She was once known as Daksha Padmasree (of Bengali descent) and is a former subordinate of Kasia Romanowa.

James Asher Havel: Vice Commander of the elite, silver-eyed and duratium-armored Silver Guard, the bodyguards of the Romanow Imperial Family; son of a Bretonese sailor and a Comnenian prostitute.

Aminata Zalika: famous silver-eyed squad commander and Romanow loyalist.

Lewis de la Asturias: member of the Silver Guard and husband of Katja Tymoshenko; of Asturian descent and a former subordinate.

Captain Besiktas: A silver-eyed assassin stationed to the Romanow Imperial Embassy in Rabona; of unknown descent.

Lieutenant Mario Fiorentina: A silver-eyed assassin stationed to the Romanow Imperial Embassy in Rabona; of Rivolian descent.

Lieutenant Giovanni Fiorentina: A silver-eyed assassin stationed to the Romanow Imperial Embassy in Rabona; of Rivolian descent.

Wenceslaus: One of six elite silver-eyed warriors that is especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics and a prospective husband to the Cesarzowa; of Comnenian descent.

Sergei Djugashvili: One of six elite silver-eyed warriors that is especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics and a prospective husband to the Cesarzowa; of Sibirskyan descent.

Indira Raheja: One of six elite silver-eyed warriors that is especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics; of Bengali descent.

Minhae-Choung Park: One of six elite silver-eyed warriors that is especially influential in the Romanow Empire's politics; of Busani descent.

Alevtina Kozlova: Silver-eyed advisor to the elite silver-eyed warrior Wenceslaus; of Comnenian descent.

Nikolai Aleksy Tesla: Head of Imperial Scientific Society; third son of Hrabia (Count) Aleksy Tesla; of Comnenian descent.

* * *

**Grand Alliance**

Federation of authoritarian and totalitarian states

De facto Sovereign: Stahl Fang, Chieftain of the Dragonkin

Ruling Houses: most prominent are the Fausts (Allemanian Empire), the Funihashis (Osakan Empire), and the Zhou (Szechwan Empire). Many lesser ruling houses exist.

Currency: Allianzmark

Main languages: Allemanian/Draconic, Szechwanese, Osakan, and Maghrebi

A superpower alliance united by the fearsome strength of the Askaram (Dragonkin) tribe, its states are known for their totalitarian ways, fielding massive armies, and also reactionary politics.

Major Rivals: Romanow Empire, Batticaloan Commonwealth

Flag: Red background with crossed white swords

Throne Name: The Draconic Throne (only used for head of Askaram tribe

Capital: Aachen

People and Dragonkin of the Grand Alliance:

Iron Claws: Vice Chieftain of the Askaram (Dragonkin) and the sire of Rima Romanowa's adopted Dragonkin-Duchess, Sturm and Drang.

Hideki Norihiro-Funihashi: General in the Grand Alliance Army and uncle of Osakan Emperor Junichiro Funihashi.

Osakan Emperor Junichiro Funihashi: newly-crowned emperor of the Osakan Empire and nephew of Norihiro Funihashi.

Szechwan Emperor Zhou Ling: young emperor of the Szechwan Empire and 2nd cousin of Junichiro Funihashi.

Duke Rundstedt: Lord Ambassador to the Dominion of Toulouse; elderly and of Allemanian descent.

Rubel Louvre: Chief Agent of the Grand Alliance in Rabona and deputy of Lord Ambassador Rundstedt; former Organization man and of Asturian descent.

* * *

**Great Powers**

* * *

**Kingdom of Breton**

Constitutional monarchy and representative parliamentary democracy

Sovereign: King Richard IV ("Lion of the Sea")

Ruling House: Beaufort

Currency: Sterling

Main language: Bretonese

Known for naval power, advanced technology, trading empire, property rights and parliamentary politics.

Major Rivals: Romanow Empire, Republic of Haaraleen, Batticaloan Commonwealth

Flag: Two black lions back-to-back upon white background

Throne name: The Lion Throne

Capital: Wessex

* * *

**Republic of Haaraleen**

Constitutional representative parliamentary democracy

Rulers: President (ceremonial) and Chancellor (head of government)

Ruling House: Not applicable

Currency: Thaler

Main language: Haaraleenese

Known for creating first corporations, central bank, stock market, as well as their naval might, worldwide commercial empire, advanced technology and mercenary armies.

Major Rivals: Kingdom of Breton, Batticaloan Commonwealth

Orange X on an white background

Residence of Chancellor: The Commerce House

Capital: Nijmegen

* * *

**Lesser Powers**

* * *

**Batticaloan Commonwealth**

Federation of eleven principalities near the Bengal

Rulers: Rotating Presidency amongst 11 Princes (1-year term of leadership)

Ruling House: 11 ruling houses

Currency: Rupee

Main language: Keralan

Known for rapid technological modernization, highly trained army, worldwide trading links, export of professional mercenaries and source of nearly half the world's rare gems.

Flag: white elephant on a green background

Residence of leader: one of 11 royal palaces

Capital: Batticaloa

* * *

**Dominion of Toulouse**

Constitutional Oligarchy

Rulers: Lord Mayor Zaehringen and Counseil de Seigneurs (Council of Lords)

Ruling House: None.

Currency: Franc

Main language: Toulousaine

Known for religious strife, rapid development, and being source of nearly half the world's rare gems.

Flag: Four-pointed white star upon blue background

Leader's residence: Lord Mayor's Residence

Capital: Rabona

People of the Dominion of Toulouse:

Government officials

Lord Mayor Zaehringen: 1st Lord Mayor of Rabona and a prominent businessman. He was instrumental in overthrowing the theocratic rule of Rabona Orthodox Church and installed the oligarchic Conseil de Seigneurs (Council of Lords) as ruling authority in Rabona.

Raul Tierra: Human husband of former No. 16 claymore Nadia and one of the original investors in "Phantom" Miria's diamond mine company. He was made Marquis de Pieta and holds a position in the Conseil de Seigneurs.

Ruud van Willems: Prominent merchant and only un-ennobled member of the Conseil de Seigneurs.

Baron von Staufen: eldest member of Conseil de Seigneurs.

Cid Malaga: Comte de Malaga (Count of Malaga) and married to Comtesse "Phantom" Miria Victoire de Beauharnais Malaga; former captain in Rabona's defunct Holy Guards.

Members of the Dominion's armed forces

"Phantom" Miria Victoire de Beauharnais Malaga: Holds positions of Comtesse de Malaga (Countess of Malaga) and Lieutenant General of the Dominion Army. Wife of Comte Cid Malaga and former No. 6 of the Organization and mother (due to unique reanimation) of silver-eyed Dame (Lady) Natalie Miria Victoire de Beauharnais Malaga. Miria is of unknown local descent.

Francois "Galk" Galacon: Former Captain of the Guard in the defunct Holy Guards and currently Major General of the Dominion Army. Galk is in a relationship with the claymore Clarice Habsburg and is of Rabonese descent.

Patrice Soult: Colonel in the Dominion Army and of Rabonese descent.

Jean Paul Murat: Major in the Dominion Army and of Rabonese descent.

Renee Rochambeau: former No. 6 and "Eye" of the Organization and 1st cousin of "Phantom" Miria. Renee is a Colonel in the Dominion Army and one of the original investors in Comtesse Miria's diamond mining company.

Helen Habsburg: Former No. 22 of the Organization and one of the original investors in Comtesse Miria's diamond mining company.

Clarice Habsburg: Former No. 47 of the Organization and adoptive mother of Miata. Clarice is in a relationship with Francois "Galk" Galacon.

Miata Habsburg: Former No. 4 of the Organization and adopted daughter of Clarice Habsburg.

Raki de Lautrec: Underwent special surgery making him silver-eyed after Organization's fall. Husband of Claire de Lautrec and father of their twins, Victor and Teresa.

Anastasia: Former No. 7 of the Organization and Colonel in the Dominion Army.

Yuma: Former No. 40 of the Organization and Brigadier General in the Dominion Army.

Tabitha: Former No. 31 of the Organization and Captain of the 10-warrior strong Elite Guard. Rumored to be in a relationship with fellow claymore Matilda.

Camilla: Former Organization trainee and cousin of fellow claymore Virginia; Lieutenant in the Dominion Army.

Virginia: Former Organization warrior and cousin of fellow claymore Camilla; Major in the Dominion Army.

Valencia: A former Organization warrior infamous amongst her peers for her former days earning a living as a prostitute. She is engaged to Major Jean Paul Murat.

Nadia Tierra: Former No. 16 of the Organization and wife of Marquis Raul Tierra; one of the original investors in "Phantom" Miria's diamond mining company.

Julie: Former No. 45 of the Organization and is married to a baker, Thierry. Julie is a member of the Elite Guard and stepmother of Thierry's son, Henry.

Alexandra: Former No. 12 of the Organization and Major in the Dominion Army.

Cantarella: Former Organization warrior and Major in the Dominion Army. Cantarella is one of Helen Habsburg's silver-eyed subordinates.

Rosette:

Marianne: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army. Marianne is one of Helen Habsburg's silver-eyed subordinates.

Selene: Former Organization warrior and Lieutenant in the Dominion Army. Selene is one of Anastasia's silver-eyed subordinates.

Nike: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army. Nike is one of Anastasia's silver-eyed subordinates.

Richetta: Former Organization warrior and Lieutenant in the Dominion Army. Richetta is one of Helen Habsburg's silver-eyed subordinates.

Felicity: Former Organization warrior and Lieutenant in the Dominion Army. Felicity is well known for her philandering habits, hence her nickname, Felicity "the Flirt".

Simone: Former Organization warrior and Lieutenant in the Dominion Army.

Matilda: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army. Matilda was a former member of the Elite Guard and rumored to be in a relationship with its commander, Captain Tabitha.

Madeleine: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army. Madeleine is infamous for nearly starting a knife fight with fellow warrior Nadia Tierra by flirting with Nadia's husband, Raul.

Olympia: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army.

Celestyna: Former Organization warrior and Captain in the Dominion Army.

Delphine: Former Organization warrior and Lieutenant in the Dominion Army. Delphine is famous for her self-restraint and is a teetotaler.

Deceased claymores at the beginning of "The Silver-eyed Empress" who starred in events of "Claymore: New Era"

Marie: Former Organization trainee; died at the battle of Kerouac Gorge.

Katrin: Former Organization warrior; died at the battle of Kerouac Gorge.

Sabine: Former Organization warrior; died during Rabona's surprise assaults on spread-out army of King Charles of Lautrec.

Ursula: Former Organization warrior; died during Rabona's surprise assaults on spread-out army of King Charles of Lautrec.

Alessandra: Former Organization warrior; died at the battle of Kerouac Gorge.

Josephine: Former Organization scout; died during ambush by vanguard of King Charles' army.

* * *

**Kingdom of Lautrec**

Absolute Monarchy

Rulers: King Philippe & Queen Violetta

Ruling House: Angevin

Currency: Beras

Main language: Toulousaine

Homeland of Triarch religion and historically is a bastion against the influence of the Rabona Orthodox Church

Flag: Golden griffin on red background

Ruler's residence: Royal Palace of Gonal

Capital: Gonal

People of the Kingdom of Lautrec:

King Philippe Angevin: Son of the late founder of the Kingdom of Lautrec and de jure leader of the Kingdom of Lautrec.

Queen Violetta Angevin: Ambitious wife of King Philippe.

Lieutenant General Sibelius: Commander of the Kingdom of Lautrec's armed forces.

Marcella van Dam: Twin silver-eyed sister of Miata Habsburg and Raphaela's replacement as the Organization's assassin. After the fall of the Organization, Marcella and Organization agent Monsieur Rado captured former No. 3 Audrey and No. 10, Raftela, inadvertently bringing the knowledge of partial awakening to the mainland and saving the life of Kasia Romanowa in the process.

* * *

**Other Organizations**

* * *

**Rabona Orthodox Church**

Founded 650 years before the overthrow of the Organization by priests who had claimed to have seen the angels Teresa and Claire ascend to heaven where the altar. Once ruled the entire Ile de Toulouse (Isle of Toulouse) until Pierre III's inquisition against Triarchs caused an island-wide revolt and the church's military control shrank back to Rabona's walls. Theocratic rule of Rabona continued despite the heresies spread by the Triarchs that Teresa and Claire were in fact the Goddesses of Love & Compassion and sisters of the Great Father. Rule of Rabona ended after a coup condoned by Major General "Phantom" Miria ended with the Lord Mayor Zaehringen and the oligarchic Conseil de Seigneurs (Council of Lords) taking power.

Prominent former Bishops:

Pierre III-unleashed the 1st Inquisition upon the heretical Triarchs and was assassinated shortly after the war spiraled out of control.

Vincent IV-He was leader of the Rabona Orthodox Church after the downfall of the Organization. Theocratic rule of Rabona was overthrown during his reign, leading to Father Mazarin's slaying of the Bishop and the Third Inquisition.

1st Archbishop:

Galatea I-Led the church successfully through the backlash against its former members' inquisition and insurrection against the state. Self-declared Archbishop of the Ile de Toulouse (disputed by Triarchs).


End file.
